


Fighting in the Foremost Ranks

by TheThirteenthHour



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Canon Compliant, Cunnilingus, F/F, F/M, Fluff, Foursome - F/F/M/M, Hand Jobs, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Multi, Oral Sex, Polyamory, Vaginal Fingering, pre-Season 8, there's only one instance of smut but tags for that are
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-11
Updated: 2018-12-13
Packaged: 2019-09-16 13:56:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 43,512
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16955343
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheThirteenthHour/pseuds/TheThirteenthHour
Summary: There's not a lot James can do beyond buying them time, he knows that. Against the Galra, trapped under the orange of the particle barrier, Voltron is their only real hope. But he has so much more than just the Earth to protect, and he'll do whatever it takes to keep his squadron safe.





	1. Chapter 1

James thinks it’s funny, in the least humorous way possible, that his understanding of the world falls apart with a mere six words. It’s an informal announcement that does it. Commander Holt comes up to their table in the officers’ mess hall and greets, “The Paladins of Voltron are here.”

It’s not that the world itself falls apart. His world is sitting beside him anyway; Ina on his left, Ryan across from her, and Nadia directly across from himself, looking at Commander Holt with wide eyes. It’s not like anything _should_ fall apart. He should feel relieved. They’ve been struggling just to survive under an orange dome for two and a half years, waiting for Voltron to defend them, and now everything they’ve hoped for is here.

But his body goes rigid at the fact.

“What?” Nadia asks. It’s one syllable, but it’s hopeful and disbelieving and it brings him back to the day they found out where their families were, the day they learned Veronica was alive, and the day they were told they would be Earth’s only real hope. It calls to mind the first time he told the four of them that he loves them, and he pushes that memory as far down as he can, to someplace safe where it can’t distract him.

He tries to meet Commander Holt’s eyes, but his gaze lingers on the insignia on his uniform, bright orange and almost domed, like the particle barrier.

“We just received contact from them,” Commander Holt says, mouth twisted into a frown that makes James think of how relieved he must be to know his daughter Katie is alive. He’s talked about her enough over the past four years that James has wondered if she and Ina would get along well. They probably would. “They’ll be landing in a Galra fighter in a few hours. You’ll need two cruisers to extract them. Mission planning is in forty-five minutes.”

James sets his fork down and spares his plate a glance. It’s almost as full of genetically engineered food as it would’ve been before the invasion. It’s certainly fuller than the plates of some of the commanders here, and much fuller than the plates of those taking refuge on the base. Their families get a third or less of what he and his squadron get on a daily basis, but that might not be the case for much longer. Their final battle is around the corner now. “In a Galra fighter, sir?” he asks stiffly.

“Yes. We can’t risk Sendak knowing we have the lions.”

“But—” Nadia starts. In his periphery, James sees her shake her head and turn toward him and Ina. “Ah, never mind. We’re all going?”

No. Not all of them, absolutely not. Two cruisers means two of them minimum. They shouldn’t need more than that for a small extraction op, especially when the people they’re extracting are the Paladins of Voltron. The Paladins might not have the weaponry to properly combat the drones and sentries, but they should be able to defend themselves. “Just you and me, Rizavi,” he says. He’s still facing Commander Holt, but he can feel his squadron’s pointed looks digging into his shoulders. They know what’s going on in his head. He ignores it. “Mission planning is in forty-five minutes, sir?” he asks, if only so he can keep from turning back to them for a little longer.

“Correct.” Maybe he’ll be able to dodge their questions for that long. “We’re expecting them to land around eleven-hundred hours, but until then, we’re tracking their fighter and hoping they get to us safely.”

He doesn’t know what to say to that. He nods.

Commander Holt’s expression softens into that fatherly smile James has become familiar with over the past four years. He hasn’t seen Commander Holt give that smile to anyone but the four of them. His own father rarely smiles at him like that. Though, it’s not like he even sees his father much these days, or his mother, and he aches for them in a way he normally doesn’t. He could at least send a message to let them know he’ll be leaving the base for a while. It’s better than doing so in person, anyway. His mother always gets teary-eyed and his father always gets cold and distant, and he doesn’t need that on his mind when he leaves for a mission. Too many distractions. Too few barriers. “We’re going to drive the Galra out,” Commander Holt tells them, in the same tone he used when they thought they lost Veronica. _Voltron will come._

“We will, sir,” Nadia says, blessedly confident.

James can’t find it in himself to say anything.

Commander Holt leaves them with a final nod. James barely has enough time to turn back to his food and start poking at it when Nadia says, “Just you and me, _Griffin_?”

He sighs, twists his fork in his potatoes, and frowns. He doesn’t know why he had even the slightest hope that they would leave it for later.

“Breakfast hardly counts as being on duty, even if we’re talking to Holt,” she says, and he knows. Of course he knows. They’re his own rules, addressing each other with formality to keep up barriers and keep himself sane. He needs that now, even over breakfast. He doesn’t want to think too deeply, otherwise he’ll haunt himself with his mother’s tears and his squadron’s tears and the fear of losing them in these final battles because of his own mistakes—

“James.” It’s Ryan who calls him back. It’s always Ryan, keeping them steady when he fails to.

He looks at Ryan reflexively, and he wishes he didn’t. He should’ve kept his eyes on his food where he wouldn’t see the concern in Ryan’s frown. He’s not supposed to worry his squadron.

James looks away, off to his right where his eyes catch the orange cuffs of a pair of officers walking past. “Can we not do this right now,” he mutters.

Nadia hums with a carefree lilt that confirms she’s not going to drop it. The last time they kept dropping it, he grew distant and snippy trying to guard his heart, and that’s not what they need. It’s not what they deserve. “I dunno, forty-five minutes is a long time,” she says.

He huffs. He looks even further away, out a window that only showcases the orange glow of the particle barrier.

Ina places her hand on his.

He tenses. He hates that he’s torn between lacing his fingers with hers, and pulling away, even if they are in the mess hall where it’s inappropriate anyway. “We will be fine,” she says confidently. It’s still not comforting. “Especially with Voltron in the fight.”

“What, did you run the numbers?” he says.

“Would you like me to?”

Her tone is too level for him to tell if she’s being genuine or if she’s annoyed, but either way, he doesn’t have an answer. He knows she’s right. He’s just too anxious to believe what she’s saying.

When he doesn’t respond, she squeezes his hand tightly. “Don’t close off again, please.”

That one word pulls the fight right out of him in a long, silent breath, shoulders sagging under the weight of her plea. He can’t bring himself to look at her, or at any of them, but maybe being able to look at his food again counts for something. “I’ll try…”

“That’s all we need right now,” she says.

None of them say anything more, and the silence is thick. The mess hall buzzes around them regardless, filling his ears with the mingling chatter and hollow laughter of countless officers—a subtle but constant reminder that the four of them, still in cadet uniforms, do and don’t belong here. He aches for the sound of his squadron, for their voices and their cheer, for anything more than just the clinks of their forks against their plates.

“Well,” Nadia finally says. It’s a welcome sound, but his stomach twists at the possibility that she’s going to make him talk it out here and now. “Anyone else looking forward to meeting the Paladins?”

He sighs inaudibly.

“Allura sounds badass,” Ryan says, without missing a beat. He must be as tired of the quiet as James is.

“Doesn’t she?” Nadia sounds perky already, as if the matter they were talking around is no longer a concern. “She’s a diplomat and a pilot _and_ she kicks ass, I already love her.”

For now, they can maintain the illusion that nothing’s wrong. It makes it easier to eat, even if he’ll stay unusually quiet. He doesn’t feel like he has the right to talk about anything that isn’t the thing they need to talk about.

“She could kick my ass and I would thank her for it,” Ryan mumbles.

Nadia laughs, “Okay, but same.”

James smiles a little and rolls his eyes. He’d be lying if he said he doesn’t at least agree with the sentiment of the statement. From what they know of Princess Allura, she is far from a woman to be trifled with—and though it feels disrespectful to think it, that is attractive.

“Would you really?” Ina asks them.

“Don’t kinkshame us, Ina,” Nadia answers, and James laughs. “But no, not really. James though…”

“What?” His head snaps up, too quickly for him to stop himself. That may as well be an admission of guilt.

Nadia presses her lips together at the sight of his face, and when it looks like she’s going to burst, she bites them down and stares at her food like eggs are the most fascinating thing in the world.

“Authority kink,” Ryan sings under his breath.

Nadia snickers.

There’s no reason he should be fighting a smile. They’re in public, for god’s sake. He shakes his head and tries to ignore the warmth in his face. “I’m not kissing either of you today,” he mutters. It’s the best retribution he can think to exact.

“Worth it,” Nadia declares.

“You already did this morning,” Ina says.

He has to look at her to see that she’s smiling a little, that she’s actually just being a smartass. She’s just as bad as the other two, really. “For the rest of the day,” he amends.

She shakes her head and picks up a clump of potatoes. She doesn’t even do him the grace of looking in his direction. “You will kiss them before you leave for your mission. Even if you do not get to see Ryan immediately before then, you would still kiss Nadia.” She says it plain as day, reciting an unfair fact. Of course he’d kiss them before leaving the safety of the base.

“I love you, Ina,” Nadia says.

“I love you too.”

James smiles. “You guys are the worst.”

“We love you too, James,” Ryan says brightly.

The absolute worst.

“Okay, okay,” Nadia says, waving her fork for their attention. “Who else? I want to meet Katie. She kinda sounds like the kind of person you’d go to if you needed to exact some sneaky revenge on someone, or if you just wanted to do some cool stuff with your jet.” Her face lights up, scarily cheery, eyes sparkling in the LEDs.

James squints at her. “Why is revenge your first thought…”

“You just want her to modify your fighter for you,” Ryan says, raising an eyebrow at her and completely ignoring the more concerning thing she said.

“Holt said she equipped one of the Lions with cloaking all on her own. I wanna fly a speeding invisible jet, okay.” Of course. “Or, do you think she’d let me fly her Lion?” she asks, touching her fork to her lips.

James pokes at his food intently. It’s hardly been a few minutes since he said he wouldn’t, but he’s already thinking of kissing her. Locking his lips around hers, threading his fingers through her hair, caressing her bare skin… He sucks in a breath. “I don’t think the Lions work that way,” he says, trying to remember if Commander Holt ever shared specifics on the matter. It was something about the Lions picking their pilots, however that’s supposed to work.

“Besides,” Ina says, “Katie pilots the Green Lion. The Red one is the fastest of them. I think you would prefer to fly that one.”

“Oh, right.” Nadia hums, pursing her lips in thought. He’s going to cave much sooner than he wants to, isn’t he. “I’ll have to ask Lance. Do you think he’d let me? Or maybe Veronica could convince him to let me.”

“I still don’t think they work like that,” James says quietly.

Nadia pouts at him, and he immediately looks away. He’ll just stare at her lips otherwise, and they’ll all tease him for it. But his gaze falls on Ryan, who’s looking at Nadia with a soft, admiring smile that doesn’t make his heart stir any less.

James goes back to his food. It’s the only thing he can safely look at.

“Fine, who do you want to meet?” Nadia asks him.

“Lieutenant Shirogane,” James says. “I mean I met him as a kid but—”

“Authority,” Ryan sings again.

James leans over the table, tightening his hold on Ina’s hand, and snatches a forkful of eggs from Ryan’s plate. James is already denying him kisses. This is all that’s left for him to take. “No,” he laughs. “Come on, he’s the best pilot to ever come out of the Garrison, he’s an incredible leader, he’s fought the Galra with his own fists and won—how could you not want to meet him?”

Nadia grins at him like she’s going to make another comment like Ryan’s, and it’s enough to make his face feel warm again. “No, you’re right. Though I think I’d be too starstruck to do anything more than stand in the same room as him.”

“I think I would like to meet Hunk,” Ina says, tone as level as always. There’s something quiet and considerate in her expression, something that makes him want to lean over and kiss her cheek. But in the mess hall, he settles for running his thumb over her knuckles, and his heart skips when she smiles. “He sounds like someone understanding and intelligent.”

“He does,” Nadia says. “Hm, who are we missing… Lance?”

“He seems chill from what Veronica’s told us,” Ryan says.

Too chill, in James’ opinion, but Lance means the world to Veronica. Her little brother doesn’t strike him as the kind of person he’d get along with very well, but Veronica’s family is their own.

“You should go shooting with him,” Nadia says. She leans against him and whispers, “Sniper Buddies.”

“Sniper Squad,” Ina offers.

Nadia points at her and grins. “Yes. I like that better.”

Ryan shrugs at his food in that cute, clipped way that usually means he feels shy. “If he asked, sure.”

Nadia kisses Ryan’s cheek. It’s a little unfair. James wants to kiss all of them.

But her gaze slides over to him, impishly enough that he’d rather look away from her. She’s actually going to bring him up. He takes a pointed bite of potatoes before she says anything, but it doesn’t even keep the knowing tone out of her voice. “So I think that just leaves Keith?”

“I don’t trust him up there,” is all he has to say to that. How Keith of all people ended up becoming one of the most pivotal fighters in this war, without even being on the planet, is beyond him. Always getting to places he hasn’t earned.

She chuckles softly. “Holt makes it sound like he’s doing a lot of good,” she says, half-heartedly trying to convince him to let go of their aggravated, competitive history. “It’s been years anyway.”

It has been. Five or six years, since the last time he even saw Keith. But it’s now, at the end of the world, that his name begins to bother him again. James has spent the two and a half worst years of his life defending a tiny pocket of Earth, but Keith is the one who gets to fly in like a knight in shining armor.

He wants to say people don’t change, but Ina would correct him all too plainly.

Thankfully, Nadia doesn’t push it. She brings up Coran and whatever else she can talk about for the rest of first mess, and it’s enough to put Keith out of his mind. But the conversation isn’t enough to silence everything else. Getting up to leave is an unusually sharp reminder of their circumstances. Next, he’ll be sitting with their commanding officers bathed in the dim orange glow of that massive screen—predicting Galra activity, plotting a course, determining what weapons they’ll need, generating and loading maps, configurations, radio frequencies. It’s all par for the course by now, but it strikes him with an intensity that slows his steps as they leave the mess hall. He catches the glint of the stripes on his teams’ shoulders. Two curves of gold against bright orange.

It’s not fair.

When they’re far enough away from the mess hall that there’s hardly anyone around, he stops and says, “Alright.” He meets Nadia’s eyes when she looks over her shoulder, and he has to think hard about the next word he says. A glance at Ina and Ryan makes the decision for him. “Nadia and I need to head to our mission planning. You two still have drills to run.”

Ryan nods. There’s enough of a frown in his eyes to make him look worried, and it’s sheer discipline that keeps James anchored where he is.

Ina purses her lips. “So we will…”

“We’ll see you for dinner,” Nadia says, with the confidence that he, as their leader, is supposed to be able to deliver.

He sighs. He’s getting too caught up in his head, even if temporary goodbyes are more than enough reason to.

Nadia murmurs, “I love you,” and kisses Ryan and Ina, sweetly but swiftly, before an officer can walk by and yell at them.

He follows suit, resisting the urge to gather them in his arms and hug them tightly, trying not to spend too long relishing their warmth and closeness and the pressure of their lips, trying and failing not to think about the possibility that this could be the last time he ever gets to.

Ryan’s gaze is heartachingly warm when he pulls away. “Keep each other safe,” Ryan says.

He stares into deep, dark, beautiful eyes that look like they hold the universe, and breathes back, “Always.”

Ina reaches for his hand and squeezes it tightly between both of hers, and he shouldn’t, but he caves. He brushes her hair back and kisses her forehead. “You will be fine out there,” she whispers, like she’s really saying it to herself.

“Come on, guys,” Nadia says. She sounds as light as ever, as if she’s tossing her hair at all of this. “We’ve gone on worse missions than this, we’ll be fine.”

“I know,” Ina says. “But… James seems distressed.” She peers at him, and in that brief moment of eye contact, he sees all his thoughts and fears reflected in her face. Empathy’s a bitch, putting his problems on her shoulders when he should be—wants to be—the only one carrying the weight and worry of their safety. “Am I wrong?” she asks.

No. He’s always distressed. “We’ll be fine,” he echoes. It sounds hollow.

She nods anyway, and lets go of him.

He can’t turn away from them first. He waits for their backs to face him, gold stripes winking at him under the LEDs, and then turns to leave. But Nadia’s knowing look is what awaits him, and he steels himself for what she’s going to say. She doesn’t speak until the only footsteps they hear are their own. “I know we only have a few minutes, but can we talk?”

She asks gently, but the question hooks into his skin. “It’s not anything different,” he mutters.

“I know. Just… We’re in this together.” She nudges his shoulder. “And we’re badass anyway, come on.”

He smiles a little. All these years of knowing her and being in a relationship with her, and somehow he still doesn’t know where her reserves of confidence come from. “I guess.”

“Please,” she scoffs. “Have you seen us out there? Don’t get so caught up in your head, we’re good at what we do.”

The side-eye she gives him is purely _Ryan_. Head tilted, one eyebrow raised, daring him to challenge her when she speaks an absolute truth. He’s never left with any option but to relent, though he’s tempted now to nudge her glasses lower just to annoy her. He says, as lightly as he can, “Alright, fine, we’re… good at what we do.”

She grins, satisfied. “Thank you.”

She looks at him beautifully, all bright cheer and determination and love, and she’s too much for him. At the end of the hall, a few officers talk over tablets and papers and cups of heavenly, watered-down coffee. It’s much easier to calm his heart while staring at their orange insignias and cuffs than at Nadia. “Thank _you_ ,” he whispers to her.

“What for?”

“Just… Being you.”

It takes her a second to suck her teeth and say, with her smile in her voice, “Don’t get all sentimental with me now.”

They spend three hours with Commander Holt, Commander Iverson, and Admiral Sanda poring over every last detail of their mission, down to who comes back in whose cruiser. He can feel Nadia looking at him when they decide Keith will go with her.

When he and Nadia suit up, they suit up in silence. The act of slipping out of his uniform and into his gear is mechanical, almost therapeutic in how it gives him something mindless to focus on. The gentle clangs from his locker and from Nadia’s in the other aisle are soothing in a way they shouldn’t be. Like a clock counting off the seconds.

But once he’s suited up, helmet in hand, his thoughts rush back to him. He should have sent a message to his parents saying he’d be back for dinner, though he knows there’s no real point in it.

“Ready?” Nadia calls from the end of his aisle.

He wishes Nadia could’ve stayed behind, safe beneath the particle barrier with Ryan and Ina.

He takes a breath. He knows it’s there, but he pulls it out of his pocket to check anyway. It’s a worn, five-year-old photo of the four of them from one of their first dates, back when they hadn’t decided yet if they were anything other than platonic. Ryan took the picture, a masterful cameo selfie that shows them exactly as they are with each other. In it, Ryan grins at the rest of them being dumb, while Ina looks both amused and concerned by James and Nadia pulling faces at each other, acting like they didn’t want to share a funnel cake with the other.

It’s his good luck charm. He never leaves the base without it. He never so much as leaves their quarters without it.

He slips it safely back into his pocket and answers, “Yeah.”

Nadia knocks once on Ryan’s locker on her way to him. She must’ve knocked on Ina’s already. She stops beside him, says, “Kiss before I have to call you ‘Griffin,’” and purses her lips through a smile.

It’s supposed to be a little kiss. One firm, seconds-long press of lips, no hands, no hugs, no motion or gestures or closeness to lose himself in, not even like how he kissed Ryan and Ina earlier. But he finds his lips fitting themselves around hers, one hand cradling the back of her head, the other tugging her forward by whatever fabric he can grab without dropping his helmet. He kisses her slowly and bittersweetly, thinking of nothing but how he needs to bring her home, how Ryan and Ina are waiting for them to come back safe and sound.

“That’s not how we usually kiss before a mission,” she whispers, her breath warm on his lips.

It’s not, for the simple reason that it’s too easy to get caught up in it and worry and ache like he does now, heart twisting in his chest. “Sorry,” he says, but he doesn’t let go of her. He runs his thumb over the nape of her neck.

She shakes her head, brushing her nose against his. “Oh, please.” She rests her hand over his heart and asks softly, “Are you gonna be okay?”

He snorts. “I kind of have to be.”

“Anything I can do?”

Not really. This is on him, after all, but saying as much would sound dismissive when he’s not trying to be. “I’ll let you know.”

“Alright.” She kisses him simply, so they don’t completely break routine and ritual, and steps away with a smile. “Now come on. We have a mission to run, Griffin.”

He was wrong. She could do that. An easy cue to pull his mind away from home and place it on the field.

He follows her to the exit, pausing to knock on Ryan’s locker and rounding the aisle to knock on Ina’s before leaving.

They get their brief and head to their cruisers—or, not _their_ cruisers. The cruisers aren’t theirs the way that the MFEs are. The walk around and inspection are impersonal, and when he kicks the front tires for good luck, it _feels_ like he does it solely out of superstition. The cruiser won’t make good on it the way his jet does, but he’ll stay anxious if he doesn’t kick the tires anyway. “Bring us home,” he says when he’s seated with his hands on the wheel. His jet always responds in a way that he feels in his heart, in a way that only other pilots understand. The cruiser doesn’t respond at all.

“I miss my fighter,” Nadia says over the comms.

He does too. He feels safer in the air anyway.

Minutes later, Commander Iverson gives them the mark to depart, and they go.

It takes half an hour to find them, penned in by drones and sentries like cattle, not the heroes they’re supposed to be. He rams his cruiser into a sentry that starts to charge them and pins it against the remains of a building. It twitches uselessly against his windshield. He hops out, shotgun at the ready, and takes out another sentry as Nadia rolls in.

“Stay down, we got this!” she shouts as she takes out the drones.

And Keith—of course it’s Keith, in his red, white, and black alien armor, who wants to challenge her on it.

James isn’t having any of it. He’s not wasting valuable time on it, and he growls as much. He’s sure Nadia will poke him about it later.

Keith recognizes him.

Nadia scopes out their surroundings for more drones. “Katie, Lance, Keith, Hunk, you’re with me. The rest of you are with Griffin.”

There are two here that weren’t accounted for. The blonde woman with the same markings under her eyes that Princess Allura and Coran have, and, strangely, a wolf. He wonders about them as they pile in and drive back, Nadia in the lead per mission planning.

“Sorry you had to come back to this,” she says over the comms. If anyone in her cruiser responds to her, he doesn’t hear it.

It’s strange, returning to the base. He pays more attention to the particle barrier than he has in a long time—its curvature, its height, the shade of orange that he stubbornly pretends is the color of sunset, the way it only shields half the runway, though he and his squadron never need more than that anyway.

He feels like the bearer of bad news when they roll past the gates; the silence in his cruiser and over the comms feels thicker than ever. The Garrison has been a home to all of them, and he can imagine that seeing it under the orange haze of the particle barrier makes this real for them. He almost wants to repeat Nadia’s apology.

But maybe the apology is unnecessary. Katie leaps out of Nadia’s cruiser, and Mrs. Holt looks happier than he’s ever seen her. Lance runs out and gets smothered by Veronica and the rest of their family. They don’t need apologies.

There isn’t a family to greet Keith, he notes. Or Shiro. Or Hunk, who asks about his.

James frowns. He leans against his cruiser and crosses his arms. His mother would sob into his face if she were here. His father would clap his back. He went months not knowing what happened to them, back when the Galra first invaded. Nadia cried herself to sleep until they found her family. Ina shut down whenever she worried too much about hers. And Ryan tried his damnedest to stay strong for the three of them and not show how much he hurt for his family.

James has to pull himself back to the present. Their families have long been safe on the base. The three of them are safe too.

But ultimately, his squadron’s safety, and the safety of the entire planet, is in the hands of the people they just delivered to the base, and he’s not ready to leave that responsibility to them. He knows it’s too soon to judge—and that he doesn’t even have the right to, all things considered—but he doesn’t trust them. Not with the lives of everyone on this base. Not when those lives include his squadron’s.

Though, as he glares at red armor, a part of him that he doesn’t want to acknowledge knows he really only has a problem with Keith.

James pulls his helmet off.

Keith definitely recognizes him.

James goes over to Nadia, a much preferred presence even if he knows she’ll talk about him. “You good?” she asks as she peels off her helmet and shakes her hair. She quirks an eyebrow behind him, at Keith. “That was kind of intense.”

“I don’t trust them,” he mutters.

She hums, and thankfully doesn’t say anything more.

Admiral Sanda gives them two hours before their debrief, so their new arrivals can get somewhat settled. His stomach gnaws at him when he realizes that’s more than enough time to change out of his suit and actually sit to eat. “And Cadet Griffin, get the rest of your squadron,” she barks, like he has trackers on them and can lock on to their location.

He’s just finished changing back into his cadet uniform, photo safely tucked into the inner pocket of his coat, when Nadia slams into him with a hug.

“Good?” she mumbles into his neck.

He wraps his arms around her and holds her tight, pressing his cheek against the side of her face, though her glasses kind of get in the way.

She’s safe. Ryan and Ina are safe. They’re all safe.

He takes a deep breath. “Yeah. You?”

“Yeah. Do you wanna eat first or do you wanna find Ina and Ryan?”

“My stomach can wait.” His heart can’t.

They were only going to run drills in the simulators today, with Commander Holt and Commander Iverson overseeing them. But with no subsequent debrief on account of the extraction op, Ryan and Ina have been more or less free for the last half hour. So they’re either back at their quarters, running more sims for the hell of it, or at their favorite spot.

James and Nadia have to pass near the simulators to get to their quarters anyway, but they’re not there. Their quarters are empty too.

“Guess we know where they are,” Nadia says.

There’s one spot the four of them always loved, a shelf of rock outside the walls surrounding the main Garrison building, angled away from the roads and offering relative privacy. It used to be the best place to watch the sunsets, nothing to block their view but distant, dusty mountains, before the particle barrier. Ryan and Ina are there, seated halfway in the rock’s shadow and curled over a phone, probably watching one of those space documentaries they love so much. They always had hours and hours of episodes downloaded on their phones, specifically to watch them together.

Ina, of course, is the one who stirs before James and Nadia get close to them. Ryan follows her gaze and breaks into a big smile when he sees them. James can’t help but mirror his expression.

“We’re back!” Nadia sings. She runs to them and all but throws herself on the ground to hug them both.

He’d do the same, but seeing the three of them like this, holding each other, smiling, safe—it slows his heart in a good way, not quite calm but not worried either. They’re his, and they’re safe, and they’re home, and when he holds them and kisses their foreheads, it’s like telling them he’ll always protect them.

“I told you that you would be fine,” Ina tells him.

“I know, I know.” He presses his cheek to her forehead in apology. “I should’ve believed you.”

“Also you kissed Ryan again.”

He sucks his teeth. “That doesn’t even—” he laughs, and he shakes his head. He could stand and leave, because there’s no winning with any of them and he’s hungry anyway. But they’re in his arms again, where they belong. “Okay, can I rescind that? Kissing before and after a mission shouldn’t count, but if you’re gonna count it anyway.”

She purses her lips. He’s tempted to kiss them. “It’s still kissing.”

Nadia kisses his cheek. “It’s okay that you can’t resist us, James,” she coos, before peppering his cheek with more kisses.

He’s trying to frown. He’s really, really trying.

Ryan doesn’t help at all by planting a kiss on his other cheek. “Everything went fine, then?”

“Yeah!” Nadia says. “James yelled at Keith and glared at him, it was funny.”

Now it’s easy to frown.

Nadia flashes him a big grin and continues, “We all have a debrief at fourteen-thirty, you two included. But we’re starving, so if we could eat before then… You guys already had lunch, right?”

Ryan nods.

“We could accompany you, though,” Ina says.

They take their time getting to the mess hall and eating, but even then they have fifteen minutes that they can’t really kill. They arrive early for their debrief. All the usual officers save for Commander Holt, Commander Iverson, and Admiral Sanda are already there. Veronica stands at the head of the table fiddling with a tablet, the massive screen behind her setting her aglow with a halo of orange. She smiles at them as they file in, but it isn’t until she’s done working on something that she goes up to him and Nadia. “I just wanted to say thanks for bringing Lance home.”

The smile she gives them is a rare one. It’s vulnerable, with a tender kind of happiness that looks the way he feels when his squadron comes back safe and sound. He wants to say that, to tell her that he knows exactly how she feels and that there’s really no need to thank them for it. But she knows that, and in any case, he can’t bring himself to speak. All he can do is nod.

Nadia squeezes Veronica’s wrist. “Of course.”

Eventually the Paladins file in, along with Coran and the blonde woman. Romelle, maybe. He thinks that’s the name that Shirogane gave to Commander Iverson. All eight of them take a seat at the table, like all they had to do to earn their place there was waltz in, never mind that, with one exception, they’re all in cadet uniforms like his squadron.

There are three stripes on Shirogane’s shoulders now. It seems they had enough time to promote him to Commander but not enough time, after two and a half years, to do something about his team’s ambiguous rank.

He takes a breath as Commander Holt begins talking. He’s getting wound up for no real reason. He doesn’t trust them, sure, but he’s in no position to judge, and if this is what the brass thinks is best, then he’ll go with it. He can take care of his team himself, anyway. He’s been doing that all this time.

But Hunk asks, “Why don’t we bring more people into this base?” and it reminds him that he can’t.

As much as he wants to, he can’t take care of them, not in a way that would truly, undoubtedly keep them safe. Their place is in battle, and he can’t keep them out of the air. He can’t risk the world for his squadron. It’s damn foolish and dangerous to even hope that he could, and treasonous that he wishes he could change that.

So when Hunk pushes back a second time, he snaps. “Hey, do Paladins not understand the chain of command? Your CO said it was too dangerous!”

“Officer Griffin, that’s enough.”

He sneers. It’s directed at Hunk, but it isn’t meant for him. It’s meant for all of this. The nominal title but the orange and two stripes on his shoulders. The fact that until the Galra are gone, there isn’t even the slightest hope that he won’t have to risk his squadron’s lives. The destruction beyond the walls of the particle barrier. The struggles and uncertainties within them. He can’t even remember what it’s like to have a guiltless meal, a good shower, a full night’s rest.

Princess Allura rises, and it’s enough to break his chain of thought. He stands back in line with his squadron, scowls directly ahead at the wall, and doesn’t say anything for the rest of the debrief.

When they’re finally dismissed, Veronica, he, and his squadron are the last to leave, and they thankfully don’t need to accompany the Paladins and the other commanders to the hangar. The five of them linger. He leans back against the wall and crosses his arms. He can feel the others staring.

“You guys should get some rest,” Veronica tells them, but they all know she means it especially for him. “It’s been a long day.”

“Yeah,” Nadia says. She steps up to him. He doesn’t look at her. “James?”

He grits his teeth. It’s… a lot. It’s all a lot, and there’s no way to get away from any of it. He could walk or run as far as he likes but there’ll always be the glaring orange edge of the particle barrier to stop him.

But he’ll try anyway. He shakes his head, pushes off the wall, and says, “I need some air.” He doesn’t look back at them.

He wanders the halls, chin up, shoulders back, fists at his sides. He thinks too much about Hunk and the desperation in his face and voice. That may as well have been himself and his squadron two years ago, ready to give anything to save the people they love. It’s himself now, as much as he doesn’t want to admit it. As much as he has to act like it isn’t.

 _We can’t lose ten people to save twelve_ , Commander Holt said.

He hates that. And he knows that those words don’t matter. How many times did Nadia threaten to steal a cruiser and go find her family on her own? How many times did Ryan side with her? These Paladins have had the universe’s greatest weapon in their hands for five years. Nothing could stop them, and nothing’s going to stop them now.

He hates it, but the Paladins have to be his biggest priority.

He doesn’t expect his squadron to still be in the debriefing room, but Veronica might be, and he’s relieved that she’s the only one there. She’s sitting in the seat Romelle took, scrolling through something on her tablet. Photos, maybe. She raises an eyebrow at him. “I thought you were getting some air.”

He doesn’t know how exactly to respond, so he looks away. “I was hoping I could ask you for a favor.”

“Depends on the favor.”

His photo is in his pocket. It’s safest inside his coat, but now is one of the times he wishes he kept it in the pocket of his pants. Just pinching the corner of it would be comforting enough. “If… I had a feeling the Paladins might run out to get Hunk’s family regardless, would you come with me to make sure they don’t get themselves killed?”

“You’re asking me and not your datemates?”

He sighs, “You could just call them my squadron,” as if this will be the time that she stops calling them his datemates just to annoy him.

“Aw, but that’s not cute,” she says with a sideways grin.

There’s no point in it, but he flatly offers anyway, “Significant others.”

“Six syllables compared to two, James, come on.”

He rolls his eyes. He could suggest _partners_ , but he’s not here to take up this old dance. He rests his hand on the back of Admiral Sanda’s chair, but even thinking about sitting in it feels disrespectful. He settles for the corner of the table and angles himself away from Veronica, not facing her, but not with his back to her either.

She taps his arm. “Hey. What’s wrong?”

A lot. It’s too much to put into words, but it’s all stuff that she understands. He just needs to figure out how to identify it. He asks quietly, “If you could do anything to keep your family safe, wouldn’t you?”

She doesn’t answer.

Her silence is a yes, but he has a better way to phrase it. “Or— Okay, your brother’s a Paladin. He’s gonna be up there fighting… a harder fight than any of us.” He has to admit it. “And you know you can’t do anything about it. You can’t tell him to sit this out, he needs to be up there. So instead, you’ll just try to keep him safe from everything else. ‘Cause that’s… That’s kind of where I’m at, right now. Or, where I have been, ever since. But now that we’re maybe nearing the end, it’s…” Worse. But he shrugs and just says, “Yeah.”

He glances at her when she doesn’t immediately respond. She’s holding her arms and frowning at her tablet, at the photos she _was_ looking at, after all. The tablet is stopped on a picture of her with Lance and her other siblings. “I constantly have to remind myself… that he’s been training for this just as hard as we have.”

She sounds smaller than all the other times she’s talked to him about Lance, as if, now that’s she’s seen him again and hugged him again after years of not even know what happened to him—now the idea of losing him is even worse.

She shakes her head and shrugs. “Or, harder, I mean, he’s been fighting the Galra all this time. And it’s hard to trust in that ‘cause I mean…” She looks at him. It’s like the smile she gave him earlier. “I’m never going to not worry about him. He’s my little brother.”

His heart aches. He looks away.

“We’re always going to be afraid for the people we love,” she says quietly. “And that… fucking sucks when it’s life or death. But… we need to remember that we’re in the fighting ranks for a reason. I need to remember that Lance is actually a skilled pilot,” she says, sounding surprised. She nudges his leg and grins at him. “And so is your _squadron_. They have the skill to be up there and succeed. And I know hearing that doesn’t really change anything, and I know telling yourself that only changes so much but…” She frowns at her photo.

There’s something desperate in the furrow of her brow—and he hopes. He doesn’t know what he hopes for, but he hopes.

She takes a breath and whispers, “We can’t forget that.”

She’s right.

She’s right, but it’s dissatisfying, but everything is dissatisfying. Maybe that’s what he hoped for, like a fool. For some magical set of words that would put everything right, or some advice that would finally give him what he’s wanted all this time. But he’s always known that those things don’t exist. Not for him, not in his situation. “Would it be worse if you were the one calling the shots for him?”

He doesn’t look directly at her as he says it, but he can feel the pity in her stare. “James, you know you can’t think about that…”

He scoffs. “I’ve been thinking it for two and a half years, it’s a little fucking late for that.”

“James… You’re up there for a reason too. You’re their leader for a reason, and you’re incredibly capable, as a leader and as a pilot. And you know I’m not bullshitting you about that. Never am.” She tugs his sleeve, and he hates how raw he feels when he meets her eyes. “You’ll keep them safe.”

He doesn’t believe her. He wants to dismiss her words, but he doesn’t have an argument. He doesn’t have any barriers up to provide him with one. He looks away and mutters, “Thank you.” There really isn’t any other response.

She considers him for a moment, like she might actually have some magical words to share. “Did you still want to go?” she asks, slowly and softly.

Somehow, it helps. “Yeah.”

She nods, picks up her tablet, and stands. She never wastes any time. He always appreciates that. “Then let’s go. Their only way out of here is with a cruiser, so if they _are_ gonna sneak out, we’ll catch them at the garage.”

He nods and follows her out of the debriefing room silently, unsure of what to say. There’s more he wants to get off his chest, but it’s all just variations of what he’s already told her, feeling afraid and feeling powerless and—feeling guilty about leaving the base without telling his squadron. He bites his lip but. But he’ll come back. If he told them, they’d try to come with him, and considering Nadia alone, he wouldn’t be able to stop them. And what would be the point, then? He’s only doing this in the first place for their safety. No Paladins means no hope for Earth and no hope for them.

“Are you sure you don’t want to just take this time to decompress?” Veronica asks him. He straightens at the sudden sound of her voice. “We don’t even know if they’re actually gonna sneak out.”

That doesn’t matter. He’s not changing his mind about this. “I’m sure.”

“Okay. But do me a favor?” She shrugs. “A favor for a favor, I guess. When you get the chance, just… Breathe. Okay? Try to do something even a little relaxing.”

He presses his lips together, resisting the urge to scoff, and nods. “Yeah, I’m sure I can relax with aliens and the threat of losing everyone I care about literally looming overhead, I’ll do that.”

She rolls her eyes. “Oh, don’t give me that. You can’t run on high alert a hundred percent of the time.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he sighs, because if he can’t argue with her, he can at least annoy her.

“Or _that_.”

He grins at her, and somehow, it doesn’t feel hollow. “Well what if it’s a little relaxing to mess with you?”

She glares at him for a solid three seconds and then stares down the hall. She’s fighting a smile, and the only reason he doesn’t call her out on it is because she’d will it away out of sheer spite. “I liked it better when you stressed about calling me by my first name.”

He chuckles. There’s always been something unusual about where exactly he and his squadron stand with her, having met her and mourned her knowing nothing but her first name and her ferocity. Despite their difference in rank, she has always seen them as equals, and she was always adamant about maintaining that after they learned who she was. Now they see each other as family. No other officer treats them the way she does. Not even Commander Holt. It’s why he says, “Thank you, by the way.”

“For what?”

He doesn’t know how to put it into words, so he just says, “For hearing me out.”

“Oh. Well,” she sighs, “if you’re not gonna stroke your own ego, I guess I have to do it for you.”

He laughs. “I can always count on you, Veronica.”

“Never forget it,” she says with a smirk. “But really. I’m always here if you need anything.”

It’s heartwarming, and relieving, somehow, to have someone outside his squadron to support him. He nods and says softly, “I’m here for you too.”

She smiles.

It’s strange suiting up without any of his squadron with him. Veronica suits up in a different aisle, farther away from Nadia’s and Ina’s lockers, and maybe it’s the distance or maybe it’s her, but the sound of her things clanging against her locker is different compared to his squadron. It makes the room feel hollow.

He double-checks his pocket for his photo once he’s suited up and heads toward Ryan’s locker. It looks like every other locker here, holding gear for ground and aerial ops. The only difference is the flight suit, unique to the four of them, specially made to withstand the G-forces of the MFEs. The inverted Garrison insignia sits on the shoulders, bright orange against reassuring white and gray.

It feels wrong seeing Ryan’s suits hung up.

He knocks on Ryan’s locker once, and rounds the aisle to do the same to Nadia’s and Ina’s lockers. He lingers at Ina’s before he sees Veronica standing at the end of the aisle with her brow furrowed.

He shrugs. “We always kiss right before a mission. But if we can’t…” It’s the best explanation he can give. He doesn’t know how to say it’s bad luck not to kiss them, or that the kisses are more a just-in-case than a goodbye but are also more a goodbye than a just-in-case, or how it’s like asking for their protection even though he’s only heading out to protect them.

It’s pure superstition and placebo, he knows. But it helps.

Veronica shifts. “They’re gonna kill you if they find out you left without telling them.”

He laughs. “Yeah. Ina’s gonna cry, and that’s gonna gut me. Ryan’s not gonna say a word to me and just glare at me all disappointed, and that’s gonna eat me from the inside. And Nadia’s gonna straight up run me over with her jet,” he says with a nod. “So if anything, it’s been nice knowing you, you’ve done a lot for me, you were always my favorite officer.”

She grins and shakes her head.

“Please don’t tell them.”

“I won’t,” she laughs.

Besides, if they have to find out, he’d rather they hear it from him.

Even with the lights out in the garage, it’s easy enough to find the cruiser he used earlier. That’s where they wait.

“What if no one shows up?” Veronica says quietly, perched on the tire of the cruiser next to his. She taps away on her tablet, finalizing a route they could take to the nearest work camp.

He shrugs and scopes out the room for any sign of anyone else, hoping a commander doesn’t waltz in and find them instead. Veronica’s rank might not do them a lot of good to keep them out of trouble, but it would help. “Then my squadron doesn’t kill me and I live to see another war-plagued day.”

“Eh, I was hoping for something more exciting than that.”

“Wow, thanks.”

“No problem.”

Only one other comment passes between them as they wait, when he asks, “What if Lance shows up?”

She scoffs. Her tablet sets her scowl aglow in orange. “He better not…” When she catches him grinning, she gives him an unusually bashful look made even softer by the light from her screen. “Want him safe from everything else, I guess…”

He stops smiling.

They wait for fifteen minutes before they hear anyone else in the garage. It isn’t until the two figures reach the cruiser right in front of his that he can see who they are. Yellow and red armor. Of course Keith would show up.

He flicks the headlights on, partly for show, partly because there’s no need to hide themselves anymore. “You two heading somewhere?”

Keith frowns at him. “This doesn’t concern either of you.”

Nothing could stop them. They don’t care about the patrol drones that Veronica tells them about, and they don’t care about the blaster satellite that he tells them about. They keep their frowns and set jaws because nothing’s going to stop them. He’s glad he suspected as much. They’re embarrassingly unprepared.

“What’s your problem?” Hunk asks him.

They still want to push back. He gets it. He does. He wouldn’t be here if he wasn’t trying to save his own family too. And even though they don’t know that, their resistance is insulting. So when he says, “My problem is, I don’t want to see our only hope for saving Earth get hurt,” he says it more harshly than he means to. But he catches himself afterward. He lifts his head and smiles and tries to present himself as their ally. That’s what he really is to them, even if he still doesn’t trust them. “That’s why we’re coming with you.”

They clearly weren’t expecting it.

“Really?” Keith says flatly.

It’s fair that they don’t trust him either. Keith especially. “Yeah.” He kicks the tire of his cruiser and climbs in. “Now are you coming or what?”

They hesitate long enough that he can whisper, “Bring us home,” to the cruiser without anyone hearing. It still doesn’t respond.

Once they’re off, Veronica holds her tablet in the space between their seats, twisted around so she can face Keith and Hunk. “Alright, we only have a few minutes to go over our plan, so pay attention.”

“You guys drew up a plan?” Hunk asks. “How’d you even know we were gonna be out here?”

“We didn’t,” James answers. He glances at Keith’s reflection in the rearview mirror. He can’t tell what he sees in Keith’s eyes aside from disbelief. “But I had a feeling you guys wouldn’t care much for what you were told not to do.”

Keith doesn’t even narrow his eyes.

He’s changed. Somehow, James is certain of it. Ina didn’t need to correct him after all.

“I thought there’d be more of you,” James adds.

Keith holds his gaze. “It was a pretty last-minute decision.”

He can believe that.

Working with them goes more smoothly than he expects it to. They don’t question him or Veronica on their routes, and the Paladins let them take point against sentries and drones that, thankfully, never spot them.

But they came out here for nothing.

He feels detached when they find out they have to turn back. Not quite numb, but close enough. He keeps his focus on their surroundings, on drones and sentries and the distance between themselves and their cruiser. He peels out of the ruins with his eyes on everything around him and his ears trained on Veronica’s directions—there’s a sentry around that corner, take this path, stop here so the drones will pass. Neither of them relaxes one bit until the particle barrier is directly ahead, blinding orange against the night sky.

Hunk breaks the silence. “I don’t believe this.”

Veronica turns in her seat. “We’ll get them back another way.”

James tightens his hands on the wheel. His mind wants to run back to two years ago, but it’s still not safe to. It’s not the time to remember his desperation and anxiety, not the time to think about his squadron, not the time to think about death and loss—

He takes a deep breath. No one says anything more, but he wishes they would. Sometimes Nadia comes in with a cheer or confident comment. He could use that right now. She can anchor him with a few easy words. His squadron—

He grits his teeth. Not the time.

He doesn’t say anything until they’re parked in the garage and out of the cruiser. He can’t bring himself to look at any of them when he mutters, “I’m sorry we couldn’t get them.”

The photo’s in his pocket.

Hunk doesn’t say anything, but, surprisingly, Keith responds, “Thank you for trying.”

He can’t place the look Keith gives him. Grateful and sad, yes, but… Disbelieving?

James nods. “I…” He wants to pull the photo out. He wants to run to his squadron and bury himself in their arms, to feel them and know that they’re here with him. He looks to Veronica like she could speak for him instead, because what he wants to say feels too open and too honest. But she looks at him like she’s wondering what he’s going to say too. “It’s a shitty balance to strike,” is what he settles on. But that doesn’t really make sense, so he adds, “Between what we have to do and what we want to do,” and hopes that says enough.

Veronica smiles a little. “I think that’s his way of apologizing for yelling at you earlier, Hunk.”

James tenses and frowns at her, though it might look more like a pout. “It, wasn’t but. Yeah. I… Sorry about that.” He shrugs and mutters, “Hit close, I guess.”

“It’s okay,” Hunk says quietly. James suspects it isn’t, but Hunk smiles at him weakly. “You tried to help. Which— Yeah. Thanks for that. At least I know my parents are alive and I know where they are, you know?”

It’s something. Better than not knowing anything.

They walk out of the garage in silence and down the hall until the point where they split up, himself and Veronica to drop off their gear and suits, and the Paladins to wherever they’re keeping their armor.

“Get some rest tonight,” Veronica tells them.

“You too,” Hunk says back.

Keith gives him one last look before he turns. There’s still something in his eyes that James can’t place, but it’s positive.

The exhaustion doesn’t hit him until he’s straightening the cuffs of his uniform. That’s when he realizes he’s left the base twice today, he’s feared twice today, he’s stopped his thoughts twice today, he’s starving, and everything threatens to come back now. He rests his head against his locker and breathes. Tries to calm the panic before it can reach him. He can appease it and himself by going back to his squadron. It would be the most peaceful thing, to pull their arms around him and breathe them in and fall asleep to the sound of their hearts. But he needs to eat. He needs to physically take care of himself first. He can’t fly or fight or survive if he doesn’t.

“Everything okay?” Veronica asks from beyond the lockers.

It never is. “I’m tired,” he whispers.

“What?”

He sighs. “I’m _tired_. I’m exhausted and hungry and I miss my squadron and I just—” His voice shakes. His throat tightens. But he has to swallow it down. Now still isn’t the time, not without his squadron to hold him.

He takes a slow, careful breath. “I’m so fucking tired, Veronica…”

“I know,” she whispers. “I— Soon. We’ll be done with this soon.”

Will they? Would it really end with Sendak? Could it really end at all? Maybe they’ll finish him off and his forces, but there’s a whole empire out there just like him, an inconceivable number of warlords who could come find them and put them through this all over again. Maybe they’d be worse. Maybe Voltron wouldn’t be enough. Maybe he’d do everything he can but he’d still lose his squadron, his home, his entire world—

Veronica’s footsteps round his aisle. He has to force himself to breathe. To think, of anything but everything that’s going on. He focuses on the insignia on his flight suit. Inverted. Bright orange. Everything about here is orange. He misses the sunset.

He flinches when Veronica places her hand on his arm. He shakes his head before she says, “Hey.”

He shrinks away from her. “I am _this_ close to falling apart right now, please, I don’t— I—” He needs his barriers. He needs his suit on, he needs orders to carry out, he needs something to force everything to the edge of his thoughts for just a little longer because if he falls apart now, he might stay that way. And his squadron… “Please…”

It takes a long time for Veronica to whisper, “Okay…”

His eyes sting.

“Um… Should we maybe get dinner then?” she asks. “You need to eat.”

He nods.

They eat quietly, almost entirely alone in the mess hall, and the silence is both a blessing and a curse. If he talks, everything would spill out of him. All his fears of not getting to his squadron in time, of seeing them one morning and not seeing them that same night, of goodbye kisses actually being goodbye, of leading them to their deaths but being duty-bound to go on without them in an empty, pointless, grievous, angry, guilty existence— But if he doesn’t talk, it’s not like thinking about it is any better.

He tries to focus on Veronica—on the curls in her hair, the orange glow of her tablet against her glasses, the way she quirks her lips as she chews through her turn in a game of chess. She’s pretty. It always feels strange and disrespectful to notice that. She reminds him of Ina sometimes, both of them incredibly intelligent and analytical. They once played a game of chess with each other that went on for days, and he’s convinced that if Veronica’s niece didn’t accidentally overwrite the game, it’d still be going.

“Do you want to play?” she asks him.

Was he staring at her tablet that attentively? He shakes his head and pokes at his food. “You’d beat me in like five moves anyway.”

“Shortest game of chess is two moves.”

Her tone is neutral, so he doesn’t think anything of her statement until he sees her grinning like she got away with something. He rolls his eyes. “I wouldn’t be _that_ bad.”

“Wanna try?”

He wants to now, just to prove his point. But he knows she knows that—he can feel her anticipation as he considers the tablet—and he also knows that the last thing he needs is to start up a rivalry with Veronica of all people. He’d never catch up to her. “I’m good.”

“Not even to humor me?” she asks, looking smug.

It makes him smile a little, at least. “ _Especially_ not to humor you.”

“How boring,” she teases.

He knows what she’s doing. Maybe talking _is_ better than staying quiet and he’s better off going along with her. “For not wanting to play a game of chess? Do you realize how much that makes you sound like a nerd?”

She smirks and quirks an eyebrow, a perfect, mirror image of Nadia when she gives him shit. “Because Top of His Class, James Griffin has room to talk.”

“Hey, I’m a fighter pilot, I’m more a jock than anything.”

She laughs, full-bodied, shoulders shaking, as if it’s actually _that_ funny. “You’re really not.”

He frowns. She’s a little too much like Nadia. Ryan would side with her on this, too. His only hope would be Ina, but she’s picked up on their ribbing in the past few years and could probably give an itemized breakdown of his nerd-jock attributes down to a hundredth of a percent—all, of course, in favor of the others.

He misses them.

Veronica walks him to his quarters, and he’s curious but he doesn’t ask why. With every step toward home—toward his squadron, toward safety—he feels his barriers lowering. Everything will burst out of him the second he steps through his door, he can feel it. So he stays quiet. He likes Veronica’s company anyway, whether they’re silent or not.

“Try to relax a bit and get some sleep, okay?” she says softly at his door. There’s something else she wants to tell him. He can see it in her eyes and her sad smile. But they both know that if she says it, he’ll just start crying here.

He looks down at the lock and lets himself deflate. “You too.”

“James. If you need anything…”

“I know,” he breathes. And then laughs a little. It’s not like he needs the reminder, all things considered. “I mean I did just ask you for something pretty significant.” He appreciates the gesture, though.

“Well, yes,” she laughs. Her smile is still sad, but it’s brighter now. Warm. “And that always stands. Alright?”

It’s always a comfort to have her around. “I know. Thank you.”

“Okay.” She looks down and back up, in a rare moment of uncertainty that leaves him at a loss for what she might be thinking. She sighs. “I know you didn’t want a hug earlier but…”

It almost makes him laugh again, to think she was worried about something so small. “I wouldn’t mind a hug now.”

It’s good to hug her, to lightly say into her hair, “I’m about to go cry on Ryan’s shoulder anyway,” and have her laugh in return. He actually feels a little better when they separate.

“Night, James,” she tells him. “I hope you feel better in the morning.”

“Thanks… Good night.”

He doesn’t step inside until she’s halfway down the hall.

The sound of the door opening and sliding shut behind him is louder than it should be. Final, almost, like he’s walking into a place cut off from the rest of the world. In a way, it is. It’s home. It’s the one place he can disconnect from everything, or at least, the one place he can try to disconnect from everything. It’s hard to forget their quarters are in the Garrison. That all that separates them from war are a few walls and a door. That this place was once home to a trio of pilots they lost on the day of the invasion.

Ryan and Ina stare at him from the couch. Ina’s wrapped up in his arms and lying face down on his chest, exactly where he wants to be. But Ryan looks at him with worry and relief, and James figures it’s not a place he belongs right now.

He left without telling them. What if he didn’t come home, like the pilots who used to live here?

Ryan holds an arm out toward him. “You okay?” he asks quietly, like he’s afraid James’ composure will break any second.

He’s not wrong to think that. The gesture and the softness of his voice is enough to make James’ chest tighten, and it pulls him toward them even though he didn’t tell them.

He hears water coming from the bathroom as he approaches them. Nadia must be in there.

“I…” It’s all James can say.

They each grab his hand.

“We were worried about you,” Ina says, in a low voice that she rarely uses.

He breaks.

His eyes sting, and his breath hitches, and their hands are tight in his hold. Next thing he knows, he’s on the couch fighting back his sobs, his face buried in Ryan’s shoulder, Ryan cradling his head, Ina pressed against his back. The bathroom door slides open not much later, Nadia calling his name and sounding frantic, and he clutches Ryan’s shirt. He made them worry. He didn’t tell them, like an idiot. Nadia holds them and kisses his head and whispers things meant to soothe him, her hair damp and cold wherever it touches his face, but it doesn’t help. Ina starts crying softly and Nadia tries to comfort her, and his heart sinks deeper than he thought it could. He worried them and scared them and now he’s made Ina cry, and all while he’s okay. How much worse would it have been if he didn’t come back? All he wanted was to keep them here where they’re safest. It’s all he ever wants.

Nadia is still kissing his and Ina’s foreheads when he’s cried enough that he feels tired. He feels empty, almost. But calm. The kisses help now, and Ryan brushing his fingers through his hair is gentle and soothing enough that he could shut his eyes and fall asleep, here, in all their arms.

But he needs to tell them.

He sits up and sniffs and doesn’t even get to reach for his face before Ryan starts wiping the tears off his cheeks. “Better?” Ryan asks.

“Yeah,” he breathes.

Nadia hands him and Ina a tissue with another kiss. “We’re okay,” she whispers again. “We’re all okay.”

He doubts they will be once he tells them where he’s been all this time. But he has to tell them. He can’t keep that from them, as much as he wants to. He wipes his nose and crumples the tissue in his hand and collapses against Ryan again, like he could give him the strength to say it. He can’t decide if the way Ryan holds him makes it easier or harder to say anything.

Nadia brushes his hair back and asks softly, “Is there anything you want to talk about?”

Want? No. “I… I left the base…”

They all freeze. He thought Nadia, at least, would immediately yell. But none of them say anything.

He bites his lip and sucks in a breath. “Veronica came with me. To try to get Hunk’s family. But we couldn’t. So… That’s where I’ve been.”

If he weren’t against Ryan’s chest, he’d swear none of them even breathe.

He swallows.

Nadia finally says something, but her voice is achingly small. “You left without telling us?”

His throat tightens. “I’m sorry…”

He still expects her to yell.

He doesn’t expect Ina to be the one who speaks up next: “But we always tell each other when we leave the base.”

His eyes sting. “I know, I— I just— I didn’t— I wanted you to stay here…”

“That—” Nadia starts. He curls up against Ryan, as if he isn’t upset and hurt too. “No, James, that’s-that’s not fair. We’ve been over this before too, I—” Her voice is shaking. “God, what is it going to take to get you to realize you’re not the only one terrified of losing us?”

“Nadia,” Ryan whispers.

“No, I—” Her voice hitches. “You’re our leader out there but whether or not we get to protect you is _not_ a decision you get to make for us. It’s— That’s not fair, James…”

“I know,” he strains through gritted teeth. “I know but I—” He’s selfish. “I just—” He wants to keep them alive at every cost he can afford. “I’m just doing everything I can…” And he’d rather they be angry at him than dead.

Isn’t that reasonable?

Nadia doesn’t argue with him.

Ina leans against his back. Runs her fingers through his hair. He wonders if she does it for his benefit or her own, stimming out of discomfort. He isn’t sure which is worse. He’s hurt them all, and he doesn’t deserve their touches, their embraces, their quiet words.

Why isn’t Nadia yelling at him?

Ryan presses his cheek to his temple. “Look, I get it… I think we all do. But we deserve to do everything we can too, right?” His voice is too quiet. Too patient. “I know you want to be the one to keep us safe so we don’t have to worry about it, but… We’re partners. And we love each other. We’re never going to not worry, you know that.”

 _We’re always going to be afraid for the people we love._ Of course. Of _course_ but he doesn’t want that to be the case, and he’s being needlessly, uselessly stubborn about it but…

“We all look out for each other,” Ryan says. “That’s not gonna change.”

Ryan waits for him to say something. They all do.

James swallows. “Okay… I-I know, I just—” He shakes his head, like he can bury himself deeper in Ryan’s shoulder, and he knows it’s almost meaningless but he whispers anyway, “I’m sorry.”

Ryan brushes back his hair and kisses his forehead. “It’s okay.”

“It’s okay,” Ina echoes. She’s still running her fingers through his hair, and he still can’t tell if that’s a good thing or not.

Nadia doesn’t say anything. It’s just as well.

Ryan brushes his thumb over his cheek and says quietly, “Why don’t you get ready for bed.”

James takes ten minutes to clean up, change into his sleepwear, and brush his teeth. He also takes those ten minutes to figure out how to talk to Nadia, though it’s not like he has much else to say. She steps into the bathroom for two seconds while he’s in the shower, to grab the clothes she abandoned here when she heard him crying and ran out. He can’t even bring himself to say her name. But he can’t go to sleep without trying to fix this.

She’s already in bed by the time he comes out. Her bathrobe lays discarded on the couch, beside Ina and Ryan holding each other like they were when he first came in. He stands just outside the bathroom for a moment, fidgeting, before approaching Nadia.

Sitting beside her feels nostalgic somehow. It’s nice getting to live with them, but not for the price of war. He misses their dorms at the school. He misses sneaking into Nadia and Ina’s room some nights, or when they would sneak into his and Ryan’s room. Tiny rooms and tiny twin mattresses that they’d put on the floor so the four of them could sleep together. It was a much tighter fit than it is now, with two full mattresses on the floor, but he misses it. Things were simpler back then.

“Nadia?” he whispers, like he’s scared of waking her up, like she really could’ve fallen asleep in those ten minutes.

She turns into her pillow.

He swallows. “Um, can we talk? Or, I mean, I still kind of have to explain myself so, if you’d be okay with listening…”

She looks at him over her shoulder. She looks exhausted, and sounds exhausted when she whispers, “Is there really more to say?”

“I—” There isn’t. He looks down. “I just…”

She sits up.

“I just want us to be okay…”

She sighs. “I mean, can we be okay even if I’m still kind of mad?” There’s a laugh in her breath.

“You’re not the one who needs to ask for anything here…”

She hugs him.

For a second, he doesn’t know what to do. It’s only when she says, “I get it, James,” that he feels like it’s okay to hug her back. “I completely get where you’re coming from. And, I dunno, maybe that’s why I’m kinda mad about it. I just… I love you. And you mean the world to me. So, let me try to keep you too, you know?”

He nods. “Yeah. I… I’m sorry, I think… maybe I just got scared again and… I dunno…”

“It’s okay,” she whispers.

“Is it?”

“Yeah. Just, you know, stop doing it.”

He holds her tight, breathes in the smell of soap on her neck and in her damp hair. She used to wash it with ceremony before, sometimes entire weekends dedicated to maintaining its silkiness. He knows she misses that, that her hair feels brittle to her now and she hates it. He wishes he could bring that bit of normalcy back for her. “Feel free to remind me,” he says.

“Don’t even have to tell me.”

He smiles a little. He knows.

He pulls away, and he wants to kiss her cheek, but he feels like he needs to earn that again. “Are we all okay?” he asks, turning toward the couch.

Ryan looks at him sleepily and takes a deep breath. “Yeah…” He pushes his cheek into Ina’s hair and holds her tight. “As long as you dial down the protectiveness…”

The way Ryan words it makes it harder to agree, but he nods anyway. He has to.

Ina doesn’t say anything. She scrolls through her phone, likely going through stim boards she saved ages ago, looking uninterested in and unconcerned by his question. It makes his heart thud. Makes his throat buzz with nerves. He knows her better than to think she only said it was okay because she felt like she was supposed to, but it crosses his mind anyway.

He ducks his head. “Ina?”

Her scrolling slows.

“You can say so if it’s not…”

“I know.” She must say it without thinking, automatically, because she blinks afterward like she comes back to herself. “I know. I think I’m upset, but I don’t think it’s with you. There is a lot to be upset about.”

It’s better than he expected, at least. “Okay…”

“Anything you want to talk about?” Nadia asks her.

“No.”

Ryan kisses her forehead. “Should we go to bed?”

She considers her phone for a moment longer, and takes a deep breath. “Yeah. Okay.”

Nadia draws the covers back over herself, nestles in, and places a hand on his knee, a touch as gentle as the smile she gives him. It’s the only prompt he needs to settle into bed beside her, an arm around her waist and her arm around his back. It feels like peace here, under the covers and in her hold. He shuts his eyes, and it’s almost— _almost_ —like this is all there is to the world. Their warmth. Their embraces. Their love. Nadia kisses his chin, and he kisses her nose in return.

Ina climbs in behind him, pressed firmly against his back and hooking a leg over his. He smiles. Lying between Ina and Nadia, everything else falls closer to the edge of his thoughts. “Comfy?” he asks Ina.

She nods against him.

Ryan flicks the lights off, replacing white bright LEDs with the orange glow of the lamp tucked into the corner near the door. Something to ward off the nightmares, or at least make it easier to wake from them and see that they’re all breathing.

He kisses Nadia’s cheek apologetically and faces Ina, but Nadia seems more than eager to be the big spoon tonight. She slips her hand beneath his shirt without hesitation, curling her fingers over his navel in a lazy, tempting way. She nuzzles the back of his neck, and he almost turns back toward her.

In the dim light, Ina’s only a silhouette in front of him, but he knows she has her eyes shut. He wants to brush her hair back. To caress her and hug her and kiss her sweetly to make up for earlier. But he wants to ask, even if she has her leg around his. “Can I hold you?”

She answers by tucking herself into his chest, pressing close and wrapping her leg around Nadia too, who holds him tighter like she can reach Ina through him. Ina sighs when he puts his arm around her, and says, “That’s uncommon, for you to ask that when we’re in bed.”

The other mattress and the sheets shift as Ryan settles in. “He just feels bad,” Ryan says, plainly, nonchalantly, as easily as breathing _good night_. He puts his arm over Ina and brushes his fingers over Nadia’s arm before resting them on James’ shoulder. Ryan’s thumb caresses him, as if in place of a kiss.

“Oh,” Ina says. “I… But we are okay.”

James ducks his head. “I feel like I made things worse…”

He feels her shrug under his arm. “Only a little.”

“Sorry…”

“It is okay.” She says it insistently, and it’s rare for her to change her tone like that. He’ll have to believe her.

She makes herself comfortable against his chest, Ryan pulls his hand back to rest it on her shoulder, and Nadia sighs against James’ neck. Warm. Close. It’d be nice if she kissed him.

It’s easy enough to shut his eyes. To focus on Ina’s breathing, rhythmic and steady, but not grounding enough that he can forget everything else. It's all still there, hovering at the edge, and his impromptu mission comes unbidden. What if one of those drones had spotted them? What if it was a sentry that found them in the manhole? What if, what if, what if.

Nadia tightens her arm around him and lays her hand flat against his stomach. “You’re tense,” she whispers.

He takes a deep breath. He can’t fully relax when he exhales. His shoulders, his back, his neck, even the muscles in his thighs stay tight. “Long day…”

She squeezes his waist and rubs her thumb into his back. It helps a little.

Ina brings her hand to his neck. Light brush of her fingers against his skin, almost in question. Her thumb traces his jaw as she lifts her head onto the pillow, hand settling at the back of his neck, fingers brushing his hair.

She kisses him, firmly, mouth caught around his lower lip, hand keeping him close. As if they could be any closer. As if he needs the encouragement. She runs her tongue over his lip, sucks on it just enough to make his body buzz and make him melt into her and make him grab her waist—before she pulls away. “Does that help?” she asks, tone level as ever, but her hand runs through his hair with want.

Just that has him breathing heavily, and if that weren’t enough, Nadia slides her fingers down to the band of his shorts. “Yeah,” he sighs.

“It helps me too,” Ina says. She kisses him again, and that does it for him. He shuts his eyes, kisses back, leans in when she pulls him over her by his neck.

Nadia’s hand slides up his abdomen, bringing his shirt with it, and he thinks he hears her laugh. She curls her fingers over his skin, nails grazing him in a way that makes him wish he could kiss them all at once. “Yeah, that works,” she says.

He smiles against Ina’s lips—at Nadia’s words, at Ina slipping her tongue into his mouth, at Ryan caressing their cheeks.

Nadia pulls herself close. Her breath is warm on his shoulder when she says, “But now I want to make out with you guys…”

He murmurs between kisses, “Now I just want you guys.”

Ryan runs his hand down his arm, his side, down to his waist where his skin is exposed, and his touch leaves James blooming with heat and want. “It has been a while…”

“I’m for it. James owes us, anyway,” Nadia says with a kiss to his neck.

“True,” Ryan laughs.

They’re right. And he’s more than happy to make it up to them like this. He pulls away from Ina, teeth and tongue lingering on her lip because he doesn’t want to stop kissing her, but he needs to ask. “Do you want to, Ina?”

She tugs him down and kisses him hard and practically sighs, “Mm-hmm,” into his mouth.

He climbs over her, needing to be closer, regretting how Nadia’s hand slides away from him but not so much that he stops. He fits himself between Ina’s legs, and he loves how quickly she wraps them around his back, how she buries both her hands in his hair and pulls him down with her legs. He’s hard and needy and doesn’t make either of them wait. 

He moans softly when their bodies meet, pushing against each other, sending a thrilling wave of heat through him. He tries to stay quiet, to pay attention to the smaller ways she expresses her pleasure. How her fingers curl and uncurl in his hair, how her tongue slows in his mouth, how her breath leaves her in a long, satisfying hiss. It only gets better as they slowly grind against each other, and good god, how he misses the days when they could do this with nothing but a condom between them.

Nadia clicks her tongue playfully. “Well, if you two are just gonna pair off like that.” The mattress shifts as she gets up and walks around them. “Ryan, my dear!” She settles back down, likely over Ryan the same way he is with Ina. “Hey, there,” she coos.

“Hey…”

He loves the sound of them kissing, their soft moans, the way the mattresses and the sheets move with the four of them. He breaks away from Ina’s lips to kiss her cheek, her neck, her shoulder, listening to her breathing. “What do you want, Ina?” he asks around his kisses. “You can get whatever you want.”

She pushes up against him, holding him tight with her legs. He shudders. “What I want unfortunately requires birth control…”

Nadia laughs, and the sound of a broken kiss follows. “If there’s one thing I want from the end of this war, it’s birth control.”

“Lube, too,” Ryan adds.

“Yes.”

Agreed. One hundred and ten percent agreed. But they don’t have any of that now—haven’t had any of that for months and months—so they’ll have to make do. “I could finger you,” he offers.

“Not that he’s as good as I am,” Nadia stage-whispers.

He rolls his eyes. His vision has adjusted enough to the dim light that he can see Nadia grinning at him, goading and teasing like always. He can’t help but smile back, no matter how hard he tries to fight it. “You two dormed together, you got plenty of practice in.”

Her grin only widens, and she takes Ryan’s face in her hands. “Sorry, you’re not as good as Ina, either.”

Ryan’s expression is the same as his own, trying and failing to scowl. “You know what, fine, lift your hips, come on,” he says, already tugging her shorts down.

“Oh, well if you _insist_.”

James shakes his head and kisses Ina’s cheek. “Is that fine?”

She’s looking at his lips. Her fingers are still curling and uncurling in his hair. “I would like that.”

He kisses her—lips, cheek, chin—and pulls away from her as her legs release him. He helps her pull her shorts and underwear off, tosses them aside just as Nadia gasps at Ryan’s touch. One glance at them—at Ryan’s hand between her legs, at the way she kisses and caresses him—makes him bite his lip, makes heat pool between his legs, makes him kiss Ina hard, the way she kisses him when she _wants_. She clutches his hair, and when he touches her, wet and enticing, she sucks in a sharp breath that leaves him torn between drawing it out for her and just going all in.

It’s hard to have the patience for the former once she slips her hands in his pants.

And it’s hard to think about anything after that. Everything is just this—her hand firmly around his dick, drawing his breath with every pump, their mouths caught around each other’s lips and tongues, her gasp and quiet moan when he slips two fingers inside her, how she pulls on his hair gently, how her hand slows around him. He doesn’t know if it’s that quiet sound she makes or if it’s the sound of how wet she is or if it’s Ryan, that suddenly makes Nadia moan. Not that it matters. Nadia’s moan only makes James kiss Ina harder, makes her clutch him tighter, makes him quicken his pace inside her.

But.

He pulls his lips away from Ina long enough to murmur, “Ryan, don’t make her come.”

“What?” Nadia breathes.

He smiles and leaves a ring of kisses around Ina’s neck. Her breath shudders. “I want to make you all come tonight.”

He hears them kiss. “He _does_ owe us,” Ryan says.

“Fine,” Nadia sighs, feigning annoyance. “Just don’t keep me waiting too long.” And he hears it— _feels_ it—in the brief pause before she says it. “Cadet.”

He feels it in every muscle in his body, in his pulse in Ina’s hold, in the heat that pools between his legs. He hates-loves how immediately it makes him bite his lip and grin. “I won’t, ma’am…”

He rolls his fingers inside Ina, plants kisses on her cheek and throat, nips at the skin along her collarbone and sucks. She sighs. She arches her back, whimpers when his fingers move just right, lost to his touch and the marks he leaves on her skin. Her hand is tight around him, only ever stroking him when he slows enough that she can think again. And he loves the way she touches him, but he loves even more the way she writhes beneath him, when she dissolves into panting breaths and wordless sounds.

Again, the sound of a kiss breaking apart, and Nadia whines, “Oh my god…” He wants to look, to see them the way he imagines them, Nadia with her head thrown back and Ryan’s mouth on her neck, but he’d have to stop kissing Ina to do it. “Ina?” she breathes. He can hear Ryan kissing Nadia wherever he can put his lips. Nadia sucks in a breath and continues, “Can… Can we help? Ryan’s gonna kill me if he keeps _not touching me_.”

He knows Ryan’s grinning like an asshole.

James kisses his way up Ina’s neck, tasting the hum in her throat as she reaches for the two of them with her free hand. She remembers she has him tight in her grip, and strokes him with a vigor so sudden he bucks and moans into her skin. She hums again. Like she’s pleased with him. Like it’s only breathlessness that keeps her from praising her cadet.

He slides his fingers out of her and over her clit, and smirks when she gasps and moans.

She lets go of him as Ryan and Nadia join them. He repositions himself fully between Ina’s legs, one hand on her thigh, the other gently rubbing her clit in time with her breaths. Ryan and Nadia settle themselves beside her and hook their legs around hers to hold them open.

The way they look at her is mesmerizing. Fond smiles, gentle touches, bodies turned toward her like she’s all that exists right now. Ryan kisses her lovingly. His fingers turn her head and his lips travel from her shoulder to her mouth. He kisses her long and slow, kisses her while she unravels, whimpering and moaning and clutching his shirt, hips twitching and bucking as James rolls his fingers over her clit.

Nadia looks entranced. She has her lower lip caught between her teeth as she watches. Her fingers brush over Ina’s arm, tease at the bare skin that peeks out from under Ina’s shirt. Nadia is slow to pull that fabric back, lost in Ina’s moans and the way she kisses Ryan. She only seems to come back to herself when Ryan presses himself against Ina’s thigh and moans, like a reminder that she’s meant to help too and not just watch. She lifts Ina’s shirt, baring so much skin for James to look at, breasts that he wants to kiss and suckle and sink his teeth into, but Nadia beats him to it. Nadia wraps her lips around Ina’s nipple and sucks, and the groan that comes out of Ina makes James throb. He wants Ina’s hand on his dick again, or Ryan’s or Nadia’s or any of their mouths, he wants to be inside them, wants to make them come, and he works Ina until she can’t hold it anymore.

She cries out beautifully when she comes.

Ryan and Nadia kiss her skin softly as the orgasm shakes through her. Quiet whispers of, “There, love, there,” as James wrings out the last of her orgasm, pushing his fingers against her clit and squeezing her hip. She whimpers and twitches until she’s breathless, and when he finally gets to ask her, “Was that good?” she only has the energy to answer with a nod.

Nadia giggles and presses her body against Ina’s side, arm tightly around Ina’s bare waist. “You might be getting better, James.”

He rolls his eyes. His hand is caught between his girls’ hips, and he sweeps his thumb over Ina broadly enough that he can touch Nadia. His other hand is still resting in Ina’s wetness. He’s tempted to sink his fingers inside her again, but she’s glowing and exhausted and deserves to rest. Her head’s turned toward Ryan, relaxed against his cheek. “Is that what you want too, then?” James asks Nadia. “Or something else?”

“Hear that?” Ryan says, grinning at him. “He wants orders.”

James tries to glare at him. It feels more like an amused smile.

Nadia laughs and rolls away from Ina, who takes the chance to sleepily curl up against Ryan’s chest. James’ fingers are left wet and cold. Nadia makes herself comfortable, opens her legs, and splays herself out for him. Arms over her head, shirt riding up her abs, strong thighs baring dark curls and everything wet and inviting below that. “Alright then. Eat up, Cadet.”

That’s really how she’s going to do this. He rubs his forehead with his clean hand and laughs, “Nadia.”

She holds a finger up. “Ah! That’s Officer Rizavi to you.”

He bites his lip. He wants to laugh. He also wants to not be turned on by this, but he only succeeds at one. “Yes, ma’am, Officer Rizavi…”

He pushes her thighs further open, just so he can hold them in his hands. Nadia gives him a thrilled grin and murmurs, “You still have Ina on you.”

Oh, so he does, and he’s gone and smeared Ina’s wetness all over Nadia’s thigh, how careless of him. He kisses his way from her knee to the mess he left on her and licks at her skin, the pleasant taste of Ina on his tongue. He nips at Nadia’s thigh and sucks gently on her skin. She thanks him by brushing his hair back. “Sorry, ma’am,” he says, trailing kisses up her inner thigh. “Won’t happen again.”

She hums. “I don’t mind…”

Her fingers curl in his hair the closer his mouth gets. He could tease her. Kiss up her thigh, and skip to her other thigh, and skip back. Kiss around the places she most wants his mouth until she’s aggravated enough that she pulls his face where she wants it, complete with orders and a groaning sigh when he finally uses his mouth the way she wants him to. But he’s annoyed her enough today.

He loves the way she tastes. He loves how she gasps when he runs his tongue over her, how her legs and hips twitch, how her hand tightens into a fist in his hair, how her breath gives way to a moan as he slowly licks her clit. He pauses, just to look at her and take her in, lips still on her clit, hands moving up and down over her thighs. The rise and fall of her chest as she breathes is mesmerizing. She looks at him, lips parted, all lust and love, and says quietly, “Did I tell you to stop, Cadet?”

He smiles. “No, ma’am…”

He kisses her clit, until her fingers curl impatiently in his hair. That’s his cue to open his mouth and suck, and the way she hisses, the way she grips his hair and pushes him down, how her back arches off the mattress, it sends a thrill straight to his groin and god how he wishes she could reach him, or that Ina would come jerk him off, or if they had some fucking lube, for Ryan to bury himself in his ass and croon about him being a good cadet.

Nadia puts both hands in his hair and pushes up against him and groans, and he moans with her.

“I think,” Ina says, and he hopes, god, he hopes, “I would like to return the favor and help Nadia…”

She says it in a tone she only ever uses in bed, one that’s low and smooth and deliberate, and between that and the promise of her next to him and Nadia in his mouth writhing and moaning, he doesn’t know how he manages to keep his hands on Nadia, kneading the muscles in her thighs instead of kneading his cock. He groans. Nadia frees one hand from his hair, and he wants it back, pushing him down and keeping him where she wants him.

“God, yes,” Nadia breathes. It’s her answer to Ina, not a compliment to him. He works his tongue over her and sucks harder, and she makes a sound that is wordless and broken and brings back the fist in his hair. That’s better.

The mattress shifts as Ina and Ryan take their places beside Nadia, both of their attentions on her and not on him. And that’s fine, it really is, and it’s a hell of a turn-on to see Ryan kissing Nadia’s neck and Ina kissing her lips and massaging her breast and feel Nadia scraping at his scalp because she doesn’t know what to do with herself, hips bucking against his mouth, thighs held open, moans and whines ripping out of her, _god_ it’s good and it _aches_ not to have someone’s hands on him. Maybe that’s how Ryan feels, watching all this time, and James can’t allow that. He squeezes Nadia’s thigh and palms Ryan’s cock over his shorts, and the groan that tears out of Ryan threatens to make James come on the spot.

Maybe it does that to Nadia too. Her whines become sharper, louder, she breaks her kiss with Ina, pants, “Ry— In— Ja— Fuck, I don’t know whose name— I—”

She presses him down, pushes her hips up, someone kisses her and Ina whispers, “They’d all be correct,” and he doesn’t know how he hears Ina over Nadia’s whines.

James works his mouth, his hand, groans at the feel of them both and the ache in his shorts, at Ryan moaning into Nadia’s neck and—

“ _Fuck!_ ”

Nadia comes violently. She shakes so hard it takes a solid minute or two for her to calm down, moaning and panting and twitching against him, until her orgasm dissolves into whimpers as Ina caresses her and kisses her cheek.

He doesn’t pull his mouth away from her until she’s fully relaxed—or at least, as relaxed as she can be with Ryan breathing heavily into her neck at James’ gentle touch. James licks his lips, cleaning up a little of her off him, and asks softly, “Was that to your satisfaction, Officer Rizavi?”

She laughs, bright and breathless, and leans her head against Ina’s. Ina shuts her eyes and kisses her cheek. “Yeah,” Nadia sighs, brushing his hair back lovingly. “Yeah, it was, Cadet…”

He smiles.

That just leaves Ryan, free to be touched and fondled now that their girls are taken care of; less of a risk getting cum in all the wrong places that way. James massages Ryan’s cock, delighted by his quiet moans and the way he clutches Nadia, and asks, “And what about you, sir?”

Ryan chuckles, looks down at him darkly and thrillingly, and breathes, “I want what Nadia got.”

He grins and pulls on the band of Ryan’s shorts. “Yes, sir.”

Ryan rolls into his back. James only needs to tug on Ryan’s shorts and boxers for him to spring right out of them.

“Someone’s eager,” Nadia murmurs, one arm around Ina, the other hand squeezing Ryan’s.

Ryan lifts her hand and kisses it. “Hard not to be after all that…”

James kisses the head of his dick, rolls his tongue around it, and relishes Ryan’s hiss. “I’m glad,” James says, planting kisses up and down the length of him, pulling Ryan’s shorts and underwear down enough that he can gently massage his balls.

Ryan’s breath stutters out of him, and he gently brushes James’ hair back. “‘I’m glad,’ what?” he whispers.

He runs his tongue from the base of Ryan’s cock to the tip. “I’m glad, sir,” he murmurs around kisses.

“Good…” Ryan brushes his thumb over James’ forehead, and James just wants to be bent over for him. He wants to be bent over Ina, Ryan thrusting him into her, he wants his fingers inside Nadia at the same time, he just _wants_ them, _needs_ them, loves them, god, he loves them so much, he would do anything for them.

He wants to say so. All this time touching and kissing and licking, and he hasn’t told them he loves them. Not with words, anyway. He sucks on the side of Ryan’s shaft, drawing a deep, beautiful moan out of him, and starts, “God, I—”

But Ryan shushes him, brushes his hair back, and whispers, “Less talking, Cadet…”

His dick jumps in tandem with his heart. “Yes, sir…”

James runs his tongue over him, kisses him up and down, takes one of his balls into his mouth and god if he doesn’t love the way Ryan groans and makes a fist in his hair. Even better is the bone-deep sigh Ryan releases when James takes his dick into his mouth. He bobs up and down in Ryan’s lap, Ryan guiding his rhythm by his hair, careful not to push too deep, and fuck, does James need someone in his pants, his dick is throbbing and his body aches for them and he doesn’t mean to whine around Ryan’s dick.

Ryan’s grip loosens and stops pushing and pulling him, but James keeps going. “Am I being rough?” Ryan breathes.

He hums a negative. He can’t elaborate without letting go of Ryan’s cock, and he’s not planning on doing that until he comes. But Ryan is gentle when he grips his hair and guides him again. James has to close Ryan’s fist with his own hand to get them at the pace they were earlier, and Ryan finally gets back to moaning.

Nadia murmurs something, she and Ina kiss, and the mattress shifts again as their girls join them. Ina settles herself against Ryan, but Nadia runs her fingers through James’ hair first. She whispers to him, “You have such a good work ethic, Cadet,” and it has no business turning him on even further and making him moan.

Nadia and Ina kiss Ryan, every inch of bare skin they can find, and both of Ryan’s hands find purchase in his hair, clenching tighter and tighter with each kiss. James watches as Ina slides a hand up Ryan’s shirt, watches his back arch as she rolls a nipple between her fingers, as they both kiss his neck slowly and lovingly. Ryan’s breaths come quicker, deeper, he pushes James faster, body twitching as he tries not to fuck into his mouth, but god James wants it. He wants Ryan and Ina and Nadia, and he moans, and Ryan moans, and Ryan hisses, “ _Fuck_ ,” and comes in his mouth, hot and bitter and delicious.

James does what he can to help him ride it out for as long as possible. But between the way Ryan rolls his body and how Nadia and Ina kiss and caress him, he worries he won’t be far behind.

God.

He doesn’t pull away until Ryan’s fists loosen in his hair, but his dick isn’t fully out of his mouth before Nadia says, “Swallow, Cadet.”

There’s a wicked smirk on her beautiful face, like he wasn’t going to swallow regardless. He makes a show of it for her, sits up and lifts his chin so she can see his throat bob as he swallows Ryan’s mess down, thick and sour and warm. Nadia grins and kisses the air at him.

But her attention goes right back to Ryan, caressing his cheek and doting on him with kisses. Maybe she’s doing it on purpose, to make James a little jealous and make him ask for what he wants. But Ina watches James, eyes on his crotch, dreamy little smile on her face. She glances up, meets his eyes for a brief moment, and looks back to his crotch. “Do you want help?” she asks quietly.

He bites his lip. “Yeah…” Badly.

Ryan kisses Nadia’s lips, sits up, tucks himself back into his underwear, and holds a hand out to him. “Come here,” he whispers.

James isn’t that far, but he crawls to Ryan anyway and kisses up his sadly-not-bare chest to his lips. A breath of a laugh escapes Ryan before James kisses him quiet. Ryan’s hands slide under his shirt and knead the muscle at his waist, Nadia and Ina kiss his arms and shoulders, and they’re all making him wait a little and it’s fucking agonizing, but he’s not going to whine about it this time. He only moans softly, against his will.

Ryan kisses his forehead and turns him around in his lap. “Come on, Cadet,” he says quietly. “Can’t jerk you off like this.”

“I could,” Nadia mumbles.

Ryan sucks his teeth and leans against Nadia, fingers teasing the skin just above the band of James’ shorts. James holds his breath. It doesn’t help that Ina delicately traces the lines of his jaw and neck. “I _can_ ,” Ryan says, “it’s just more fun this way.” And as if to prove his point, he sits close, cock right against the curve of his ass, legs hooked around his to hold them open. Ina kisses James’ cheek, and none of them are even really touching them but he feels like he’s going to lose it. “Beside, I’m better at this than you are,” Ryan teases.

“ _Wow_ ,” Nadia says. “Alright, watch, I’m gonna get _lots_ of practice in and make you eat your words.” She tucks back a strand of James’ hair and lightly runs a finger down his cheek. “Does that sound good, Cadet? You can be my practice partner.”

He squirms. “Whatever you want, ma’am…”

“Ooh, I do like the sound of that,” she coos. She turns James’ face and kisses him and she has no business making him dissolve into a mess of moans so damn easily, and Ina kissing his neck doesn’t help, and—

He groans loudly when Ryan palms his cock over his shorts. James tips his head back, threatening to break his kiss with Nadia, but she holds him steady. He’s louder when Ryan finally, _finally_ puts his hand down his pants, skin on skin, warmth and pressure and motion that sends heat zipping up and down his body, and Nadia’s tongue in his mouth, and Ina’s mouth on his neck and Ina shifts to straddle his and Ryan’s legs and god she’s still so damn wet and he’s not going to last, he’s not going to last at all.

“I—” he starts.

But Nadia shushes him, caresses his cheeks, whispers, “Just enjoy it, love,” and kisses him senseless.

He comes with a wordless groan, body shaking against the three of them holding him together, gentle kisses and touches calming down. He leans against Ryan, panting, arms around Ina and Nadia as they relax against his shoulders, and he belatedly wonders how the hell Ryan managed to keep his mess in his underwear.

Ryan kisses the back of his head and gently runs his thumb over his softening shaft. “Good?” he whispers.

“Mm-hmm…” He can’t even nod.

They sit there long enough that he almost falls asleep. Ina must notice. She kisses him out of dozing and kisses them all, light press of lips to their cheeks and foreheads. “We should clean up,” she says, so quietly it’s like she’s using all her energy not to fall asleep too.

Ryan hums in agreement, but he doesn’t move.

It takes a few minutes of grumbling and kissing and squeezing to pull away from each other, and even then they’re drawn back. They stand to go wash off with whatever water they have left for the day or to change the sheets, but they pull each other close to hug and kiss and whisper _I love you_ ’s that they get to say with words now. They’re tired but quick to move, eager to be back in each other’s arms. They collapse onto clean sheets, Nadia curled up against his chest, Ina curled around her, and Ryan curled around _her_ , each of them glowing with soft, tired smiles and love in their eyes.

James kisses Nadia’s forehead and squeezes Ina’s arm. “Good night, my loves…”

Nadia presses herself closer to him.

Ryan and Ina sigh, “Good night,” but Ina adds a sweet, exhausted, “I love you…”

They all murmur, “I love you too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Major major thank you to my good friend [Washi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/WashiEaglewings) for letting me throw snippets of this fic at her over the past four months, this story would not exist without you. <333
> 
> So yeah, four months, and I wrote like an additional 30k for the two drafts that preceded the draft that would become this. Crazy that this started out as a Jeith fic and then I just. fell in love with the MFE pilots being in love with each other, it's pretty great.
> 
> Be on the lookout for chapters 2 and 3 tomorrow and the day after! The whole thing will be up before season 8.
> 
> If you want them, here are the [tumblr](https://write-nonsense-by-the-ream.tumblr.com/post/181028771558/he-takes-a-breath-he-knows-its-there-but-he) and [twitter](https://twitter.com/thirteenthhr/status/1072622967505465344) posts for this fic. Please consider leaving a kudos/comment/like/reblog/retweet/etc. if you enjoyed it! Feeds the writing gremlin in me.


	2. Chapter 2

Piano notes trickle into his dreams that morning, gently pulling him from the mist of sleep into the warmth and orange of wake. He tries in vain to blink the drowsiness away, but the alarm, gentle as it is, lulls him. His eyes are dry and heavy. Their bed is warm. Nadia pushes her face into his neck in a way that makes him want to kiss her back to sleep. He would if he had the energy to move. He shuts his eyes to the orange glow in the room, hopeful for a few more seconds of rest.

But the chords pick up their tempo, and he remembers that there’s more to life than his bed and the people in it.

He sighs. They have mission planning to do. Something with the Paladins. Something hopefully more successful than his stint with Veronica last night. Something that his squadron had best come back from alive.

He kisses Nadia’s temple, gently murmurs, “Come on,” and sits at the edge of the mattress with no small amount of effort.

At least they didn’t have any nightmares.

Nadia whines. The mattress shifts and the sheets rustle, but when he looks over his shoulders, it turns out she just rolled over to Ina and started snuggling with her. He smiles. This is how they should be, wrapped around each other and all their love, peace and bliss tucked into every crook of their bodies. Ryan looks like he’s still asleep. The small, narrow space on his other side is inviting, and James considers climbing back in a lot more than he should. How nice it would be to fit himself where he belongs, to hold them all and kiss them and stay where he’s meant to be.

_We’ll be done with this soon_ , Veronica said. He tries to believe her. 

He runs his hand over Nadia’s leg. “Guys, come on,” he says quietly. They don’t stir. “I’m gonna turn the lights on.” But nothing.

He’d rather wake them with kisses and caresses, but he’d end up joining them if he did. He squeezes Nadia’s ankle, gets up, and swaps the gentle orange glow of the lamp for harsh, white, overhead LEDs. All three of them groan and seek refuge in each other or in the sheets or in their pillows. He wants to climb back in with them. He wants to shield them and kiss them and make love to them like they used to, when their worst fear was getting caught sneaking into each others’ rooms after lights out.

He smiles, but unfortunately now isn’t an appropriate time to be soft with them. He heads towards the bathroom and calls, “Let’s  _go_!” 

He laughs when he catches Nadia flipping him off.

They’re sluggish this morning, lazy and easy with each other once they’re all out of bed. Lingering fingers on arms and shoulders, bodies hovering closer and longer than usual, greedy for warmth and fleeting touches and kisses pressed wherever there’s room for them. It doesn’t take them even fifteen minutes to be ready to walk out the door, but he loses count of all the times they kiss each other.

He kisses them each one last time before they leave, cheeks in his hands, lips locked together firmly enough that his chest swells each time. “I love you,” he tells them.  _I love you, I love you, I love you_. 

Ina blushes. His heart melts.

“You’re such a sap,” Ryan says before kissing him again. It’s the sort of thing Veronica would say. “I love you too…”

“Guys, stop,” Nadia says, smiling like she’s about to burst. Her hands are at her cheeks. Hopefully she’s blushing too. “It’s too early to be making me feel things, you’re gonna make my cheeks hurt.”

James kisses her hands and stays close, looking into bright hazel eyes that glance away and back, again and again.

She’s adorable when she’s flustered.

She doesn’t pull her hands away, but she’s definitely blushing now. “I love you too,” she mutters.

His own cheeks hurt from smiling.

Ina takes his hand and squeezes it tightly, and when he turns to her, she buries her face in his shoulder.

He puts his arm around her, and only regrets it a little when Nadia and Ryan join the hug, wrapped so tightly around him and Ina that he can’t hold the two of them back. “Everything okay?” he asks Ina.

She nods and wrests a hand free to run it through his hair. “Everything is better than okay.”

He beams.

“Guys, I can’t,” Nadia says.

Ryan laughs softly, breath warm and minty against the side of his face. “I love all of you so much…”

“I love all of you too,” they say back.

He has no idea how they find the will to pull themselves apart, but at some point they do. Their stomachs are probably to blame, even though Ina’s the only one with an appetite for Garrison meals. Leaving their quarters is a slow process, riddled with more kisses and squeezes and loving, longing looks, but eventually they open the door and leave.

They make their way to the mess hall smiling brightly, hands close enough to touch, and none of it really stops once they get there. Their fingers no longer threaten to brush against each other, but the looks and the smiles and the closeness remain, even when they spot Veronica at the end of the line and make their way toward her.

He means to greet her with an unnecessarily formal good morning, just to earn himself a glare, but she’s on her communicator speaking in Spanish.

“Is that your family?” Nadia asks her, bouncier than usual.

Veronica doesn’t seem the least bit fazed when she turns to them, as if she expects them to pop up behind her at all times. She gives them a little wave. “Yeah.”

“Hola!” Nadia says into the communicator.

Veronica says something in Spanish about her. Based on James’ limited knowledge of the language, it’s probably that Nadia’s the one saying hello. “My mom says hi,” she tells them.

They’ve met her mother a few times. A strong, caring, hopeful woman who’s always made it clear how much she appreciates their efforts—for the world, yes, but mostly for Veronica.

He, Ryan, and Ina give their hellos, and Veronica says something else in Spanish and tells them, “She wants to know if you guys are doing okay, if you’re eating well and sleeping well.”

Nadia gives the three of them a knowing look. “I’d say we slept pretty well last night.”

He has to look away before he starts laughing. His eyes lock on to the orange outside the windows.

“Oh, James?” Veronica says into her communicator, followed by more Spanish that he can’t parse. She’s grinning at him, and that’s enough to clue him in on what she must be saying.

“What,” he says. “What are you saying about me?”

“I literally just said, ‘Oh, James? Like always, don’t you know him?’”

“But—”

She cuts him off with a shrug. “My mom said the rest, you’ll have to ask her.”

Her mother’s laugh is grainy but audible from where he stands. She says something afterward, too low for him to parse, though it’s probably in Spanish anyway.

“That’s my job, Ma. But look,” Veronica says. She switches to Spanish for a few words. Something else he can’t guess at. “Alright, love you. Bye.”

James shakes his head as she puts her communicator away. “Even your mother makes fun of me.”

Nadia links a finger around his, trying not to push the affection in the mess hall. But honestly, he wouldn’t be bothered by a more overt display this morning. He’d hold her hand if she wanted. “You’re very teaseable, James.”

He narrows his eyes at her playfully. It’s the best argument he has.

Veronica smiles. “No, she loves you guys. She worries about you.”

“She’s so sweet,” Nadia says. “You know what would be nice? If we could have a dinner or something with all our families.”

“Oh, don’t even,” Veronica says, rolling her eyes affectionately. “My mom would literally cook for two days straight and no one could stop her.”

They chat while they move down the line and get their food—about their families and celebrations and holidays gone wrong in hilarious ways. He doesn’t realize until they make their way to a table that it’s the most normal he’s felt in a while. Like it’s fine and appropriate to talk about drunk grandmothers and cookouts that almost turned into bonfires, never mind the orange in the windows. He smiles over his breakfast more than usual, speaks and laughs with ease. And noticeably so, because once they leave for their mission planning, Veronica hangs behind the others with him and says, “You look better today.”

He looks ahead at his team, walking arm in arm thanks to Nadia, and smiles to himself. “Well, I guess I took your advice. Did something to relax a little.” Technically.

“Good! I really thought you wouldn’t, you get so wound up. What’d you do?”

“Ah…” How inappropriate would the truth be? He keeps his eyes on Nadia’s swaying ponytail and figures, if nothing else, the truth is kind of funny. He answers quietly, “Well, my squadron, I guess.”

“Oh, Ja— I didn’t need to know that.”

Ryan looks over his shoulder at them, tiny little grin on his face. James almost laughs.

“Why’d I ask, of course that was gonna be your answer.”

He can’t. He has to look at the floor. If he holds Ryan’s gaze, he  _will_ break into laughter. “Well now you know I kept up my end of the favor.”

Ryan snickers.

How he doesn’t laugh himself, he doesn’t know, but he feels it in his throat. “Okay, that wasn’t supposed to be a euphemism but—”

“James, please, just stop talking.”

He has to physically bite back his laugh.

It’s not a bad thing to have at the forefront of his thoughts while entering the debriefing room. Sure, the memory of his squadron’s moans and their skin against his isn’t the most appropriate thing to think about—dangerous, even, if he thinks in too much detail—but it keeps him in a good enough mood before things start. He locks eyes with Veronica once after she’s sat down, and he has to look away before he starts laughing. She rolls her eyes at him.

But reality always has a way of sinking its teeth in.

The plan is to gather intelligence on the Galra armaments. An infiltration mission set for tonight, in the cover of dark, with a ground unit and, of course, a  _sniper_ unit. 

When the word leaves Commander Shirogane’s mouth, James’ mind immediately goes to Ryan. He can’t do anything to keep Ryan out of this mission, he knows that. But there is, at least, some solace and understanding in Veronica’s eyes as she assigns them to their teams. “Pidge, Keith, Allura, and Griffin, you’re the ground unit,” she says, addressing him more than anyone else. She gives him a small nod. It’s the most she can do for him, picking him over Nadia or Ina, and he’s grateful. She can keep two of them safe for him.

He knows she’s going to say he doesn’t have to thank her, but he goes up to her after the meeting anyway. “Hey, um—”

She cuts him off with a gentle look. “Don’t worry about it.”

He frowns. There’s a lot to say, really, and no words to say it with, and even if she knows without him having to tell her, he wants to say something. “Still…”

She puts her hand on his arm. “Really. Don’t worry about it.”

He tries to put words to it anyway, to quantify the peace of mind she just gave him, and how much he appreciates her. But Lance comes up to them.

For someone who’s supposed to be about his age, Lance looks like he’s only almost old enough to graduate high school. He’s lanky, with a long face he still needs to grow into, but the look in his eyes and the way he carries himself belong to someone older than Lance seems.

“Hey, uh,” Lance says, looking between him and Veronica. “Veronica told me about what you did last night. And, what you’ve done since the invasion.” He shrugs offhandedly, like this is all a last-minute thing he wanted to share for the hell of it. “So, just, wanted to say thanks for that.” He glances past James, at his squadron. “And for looking out for my sister.”

Veronica looks like she’s going to cry, but she pinches Lance’s cheek and says, “You’re so sweet.”

“Oh, Veronica, come on!”

Lance catches him off guard. The way Veronica has talked about him, the Lance he’s built up in his head is someone who can’t take anything seriously, who deflects with humor rather than deals with things, who gets by without putting in a lot of effort. In short, the kind of person James doesn’t get along with. But Veronica has also shared how Lance is with his niece and nephew, how caring and genuine and loyal he can be, and that’s the Lance he sees in front him.

James shakes his head. “Don’t worry about it.” He wonders if Lance feels like he needs to say more, too. “She’s done a lot for me anyway,” he adds, smiling at Veronica.

She smiles and says quietly, “You’re all a bunch of saps, I swear.”

Lance hikes his chin. “Well at least we don’t deny our emotions.”

“Don’t you have Paladin stuff to do?”

He shrugs. “I guess. Was thinking of seeing the family for a bit. But, uh, you’re busy, right?”

“Yeah. I’ve got some things to tend to.”

Lance nods, but he looks a little like a kicked puppy. It’s bittersweet. He just wants to spend some time with his big sister, and James knows the feeling’s mutual. There’ll be time for that. Everything should be over soon. “Alright. I’ll catch you later then,” Lance says, and walks out of the debriefing room.

James hopes everything will be over soon, but that’s not something he wants to think about right now. He puffs at the hair hanging over his eye. “That’s sweet.”

“What, Lance?”

He grins. Better to be annoying than pensive right now, anyway. “No, that you talk to your  _family_ about me,” he coos. 

She gives him a dead stare, and honestly, he’s tempted to pinch her cheek the way she pinched her brother’s. He settles for leaning in and adding, “You  _care_ about me.” 

She looks past him at his squadron, still dead-eyed, but it’s okay. He cares about her too. “How do you deal with this guy. Why are you even dating him.”

Ryan shrugs, smiling.

Nadia shrugs and smiles in the exact same way. “Honestly I have no idea.”

Ina frowns at the two of them.

He’d frown just like Ina, but he chooses to ignore Ryan and Nadia in favor of telling Veronica, “I’m just saying, you’re the one being sappy talking to your little brother about me.”

Veronica smirks. She doesn’t need to say anything—he doesn’t even need to know what she’s going to say for him to regret his choice of words. “Yeah, real sappy of me to convince him that you’re not actually a bad guy, you just have a stick up your ass.”

He presses his lips together and nods. It’s all he can do. He can’t argue with her on that. “Fair.”

“I mean, she’s not wrong,” Nadia says.

“Yes, I’m aware, thank you.”

Nadia makes a heart at him.

He doesn’t know how he deals with them, either.

“Alright, well,” Veronica says, starting to head out, “you guys can keep flirting, I actually have work to do.”

He still wants to thank her, for real, and more so now that she’s leaving. But with her halfway out the room, whether he speaks from where he stands or approaches her for a more private conversation, he would open himself up to questioning by his squadron—not that they’d have to ask. They’d know why he’s thanking her. And Veronica would dismiss him again anyway. Instead, he says, “We’ll see you tonight?”

“Yeah,” she answers, and disappears around the doorway.

Maybe tonight, then, if he can get a moment with her without Ryan around. It feels rude not to actually thank her.

“So what are we up to?” Nadia asks. “Drills?”

It’s what they’re supposed to be up to. But a mission tonight means running drills would cost them energy that would be better saved for later, and if two of them are taking the break, they may as well all take the break. It feels selfish, though. He taps his fingers against the table, reconsidering whether or not it’s an okay idea given everything that’s going on. But he figures it is fair, and with the Paladins around and last-minute missions cropping up yesterday and today and, likely, for several days to come, he should revisit their schedule anyway.

“I think we’re gonna take the morning off.” They all look so surprised when he says it. Three eyebrows arching in perfect imitation of each other. It’s cute. “Ryan and I need to be rested for the mission tonight, and I think I need to talk to Commander Holt about our schedule.”

Nadia gives him a sly, tempting look, like her lips on his neck and the taste of her on his tongue. “Damn, if I knew sex loosened you up that much…”

He smiles against his will, but at least he sighs. “That’s… not why, but okay.”

“So we’re good until our brief?” Ryan asks. “‘Cause honestly, I’m just gonna head back and take a nap if that’s the case. Sex is great, but it cuts into our sleeping hours.”

Ina yawns on cue. “Significantly so.”

“Yeah, go take a nap.” James kisses her. “I’m gonna go find Commander Holt.” And Nadia. “And then I’ll come by.” And Ryan. “And let you know if we actually need to do something today.”

“Oh, then I’m out,” Ryan says, backing out of the room exactly as he says. James laughs. “I’m getting every second of sleep I can.”

Nadia takes Ina’s hand and asks her, “Coming?”

Ina nods.

As they all leave the room, Nadia tells James, “We’ll see you in a bit, then.” She grins at him playfully before they part in the hallway. “Don’t leave on any secret missions.”

It stings a little, as it should, though he knows she doesn’t mean for it to. “I won’t.”

The three of them are halfway down the hall by the time he realizes he wants to stop them for an extra kiss. He could go after them and get it. He could. But then nothing’s stopping him from just joining them and falling asleep with his arms around them. Odds are they won’t have anything they  _need_ to do, and he can get away with doing that anyway. So for now, he should find Commander Holt. 

He’s not sure where exactly the Commander went after the meeting, but his office is the best bet he has. If nothing else, there might be someone around who knows where he is. Maybe he’ll run into Veronica again.

A few turns down the hall, and Keith’s voice rings out from behind him.

“James?” he asks. One syllable, somehow soft and sharp at the same time, that stops him dead in his tracks. He hasn’t heard Keith say his name in years. He can’t pinpoint what that stirs up him. Something like nostalgia. Something like irritation. Something like jealousy.

The way Keith looks at him is unfamiliar. His cadet uniform leaves James expecting him to look indifferent or sullen or aggressive, anything like the Keith he used to know. Instead, he looks guarded.

He never thought he’d see Keith at the Garrison again.

“Yeah?” James asks, after too long a moment of them staring at each other. Maybe Keith thinks he’s changed too.

Keith glances away. “Um, do you know where the memorial hall is?”

It’s not a question he expects, and not one he wants to hear. The nameplates of those three pilots flash in his mind, but at least his memory is kind enough not to replay their screams.

He wants to turn away. To simply point Keith back down the hall he came from and tell him all the turns he has to make. But there are too many of them, and, for some reason he still can’t pinpoint, James doesn’t want him to get lost. Maybe it’s the look in his eyes. Not pleading, and not vulnerable, but close enough.

“Yeah, I’ll show you…”

They walk in silence. They’re not far from the hall, but the air is thick between them and the walk feels twice as long as it is. James doesn’t want to say anything to fill the quiet. He doesn’t know what he’d say even if he wanted to, aside from asking who Keith is paying his respects to. But as far as James knows, the only person at the Garrison who ever gave Keith the time of day was Commander Shirogane. Technically, himself too, though all they ever did was push and shove each other.

He hesitates at the door to the memorial hall, but he leads Keith in.

If he has to be honest, he hates this room. It’s suffocating. The air is musty. There are no windows. Everything’s gray and dull orange. The wall is a wide monolith lit in warm, depressing lights, and it curves away from the back wall as if beckoning them into its despair.

Keith walks ahead before he does, with halting, echoing steps that make the room feel even emptier than it is. “Is this… everyone we’ve lost?” His voice is quiet. Hoarse.

James has to swallow twice before he can answer. “Yeah.” He follows Keith inside. The door slides shut behind him, sealing them in. “All one thousand forty-seven Garrison members that we’ve lost since the Galra invaded.” He’s counted the number of spaces up there. There’s only room for sixty-three more names. He doesn’t say anything about the number of civilians they’ve lost, not that he even has an exact count for them. Sometimes he’s glad for that. Sometimes he hates it.

Keith stops in the middle of the room. “One thousand…” he whispers. He trails off. The room carries his voice.

James squares his shoulders and walks up to the wall.

Their nameplates sit in the middle of the left half. Commander Catherine Bates, Commander Diana Newell, and Commander Edith Wolfe. They were cousins. Grew up together. Close as all hell, according to Commander Iverson. Three of the Garrison’s best pilots, and members of Commander Adam Walter’s ten-man squadron.

Ten pilots, and James and his own squadron had the honor of listening to them die over their comms.

He bites his lip and knocks once against each of their nameplates.

He hears Keith approach the wall, and James feels him staring. It’s wrong, somehow, to see Keith look hurt. “I didn’t know them personally,” James quietly explains. “But we heard them die… And now my squadron and I live in their quarters.”

Keith doesn’t say anything.

James takes a deep breath. His mind claws for a recording of their screams, and he looks up like that will head it off. He tries to think of something else, and ends up wondering again why Keith wanted to come here when he was far from a favored student.

Keith’s family wasn’t here yesterday to welcome him home.

It’s a bold question to ask, but James is tired. Drained in a way he wouldn’t be if they weren’t in this room. No barriers up to stop himself. “Was there… someone you were hoping wouldn’t be up here?”

“Not for me,” Keith says quietly, searching the wall. “I already know he’s up there.”

“Name?” He’s scanned the wall enough times over the last two years to have a general idea of where any name might be.

“Adam Walter.”

Of course.

Commander Walter’s nameplate is a few steps away. Keith only stares at it. He doesn’t lift his hand to it, doesn’t shut his eyes, doesn’t mouth any final words. Did Commander Walter know him well? Was he a mentor to him too, the way Commander Shirogane was? But Keith said he wasn’t here for himself.

He must be here for Commander Shirogane.

“Did you know him personally?” James asks. Maybe for simple confirmation, maybe to keep the stifling silence at bay, or maybe just because Keith’s barriers seem to be down too. He doesn’t know.

“I met him a few times. Mostly just know what Shiro told me about him.”

James looks at the entirety of the wall, dwarfing the two of them with its massive arms, far too many faces and names looking down on them. One thousand forty-seven of them. “I used to wonder a lot,” he starts, before he can stop himself, “how many people up there might still be here if me and my squadron were sent out sooner. But then I’d wonder if we’d be up there instead.” He laughs bitterly. “It’s a hell of a place to be, caught somewhere in the middle where no one wants you to do anything but you’re the only ones that can.” He can’t think it again. He knows that he can’t, but it’s there, always present and always quiet save for moments like this. The thought that all those people are dead because of him.

He knows in his head that they’re not. He didn’t have any say in the matter, and wouldn’t have any say now. So many calls weren’t and aren’t his to make. But…

Just,  _ But… _

“What do you mean?” Keith asks. It’s startling, how gentle he can sound.

James narrows his eyes. “I mean I’m still in a cadet uniform. Admiral Sanda didn’t send us out first that day because of it.” Veronica told him so, after days of pestering her for confirmation of what he and his squadron suspected all along. “Commander Walter, Commander Bates, Commander Newell, Commander Wolfe, and the rest of their squadron might still be here if she had…” He takes a deep, careful, metered breath, one that makes no sound entering or leaving his lungs. He has to remind himself. “I know that’s not any way to think. It was the logical call.” But saying it isn’t comforting.

Keith’s voice is low and pained when he says, “If we’d gotten here sooner, maybe none of them would be up there…”

He wants to throw Keith’s words in his face. He wants to point fingers like a child, like they’re kids again and Keith just punched him out by the simulators. He takes another breath, crosses his arms, and is careful not to sound accusatory when he says, “You guys disappeared…” He can’t tell if he succeeds.

“We fell into some… time rift or something. Three years gone, just like that. Didn’t even realize it for weeks.”

He doesn’t know what to say to that. But he wonders. About everything. And the best way he can sum it up is to ask, “What’s it been like? Out there.”

Keith doesn’t answer immediately. His lips twitch, his eyes narrow, and he stares past James like he’s somewhere else entirely. He scratches the scar on his face, and for the first time, James wonders how he got it. “I really don’t know how to answer that…”

“That bad, huh.”

Keith shakes his head a little. “Hasn’t exactly been great here, either.”

James scoffs. “Yeah, watching your home fall apart around you, not knowing who’s coming back at the end of the day or if there’s anything you can do that’s more meaningful than buying time?” He sucks in a breath and hisses, “Not great.”

Keith stays silent.

That might’ve been a bit much, but James isn’t wrong. It’s a fucked situation and they all know it. “We can finally do something with you guys here,” James says, voice softer than he expects it to be.

Keith nods. “We’ll take down Sendak.”

His voice isn’t even confident. It’s plain. Factual. And somehow that’s more comforting. Somehow, coming from Keith, he can actually believe that this is coming to an end. “We’ve been looking forward to seeing you guys in action anyway,” James says. The entire planet has been. Everyone under the particle barrier, Commander Holt and Commander Iverson, himself and his squadron. They’ve been waiting, holding out hope all this time, for Voltron to pull them out of this. That’s all they’ve been able to do. And that’s depressing and frustrating and strangely reminiscent of yesterday morning, talking over breakfast about which Paladin they’d like to meet now that they have the chance. That’s nicer to think of. Nicer to talk about. “Nadia’s been hoping one of you could take her for a spin in a Lion.”

“Yeah?”   


“Yeah. Sorry in advance if she tries to fly off with the Red Lion.”

Keith chuckles. “Red’s finicky.”

James could say the same about his jet. Touchy to fly at first, but he and only he knows how to handle it now; each of the MFEs are different beasts entirely. They have personalities. Any pilot could see that. But there’s probably a difference between their fighters and magical, sentient, robot lions.

“Are you its pilot again?” James asks.

Keith raises an eyebrow.

Suddenly he feels like that’s the wrong question to ask, like it’s not something he’s supposed to know about. But he shrugs and goes on, “Commander Holt said you guys switched lions for a while but you had the red armor yesterday.”

“Oh.” Keith frowns at the wall. The light softens all the angles of his face. Rounder chin and cheekbones. Sweet, sad eyes.

Keith keeps surprising him.

“Lance is Red’s pilot. Allura is Blue’s. And… I’m Black’s again.”

“That a bad thing?” James asks quietly.

Keith shrugs. “It’ll always be Shiro’s place to me.” He says it with such reverence and fondness that it takes James aback.

It feels private. And he understands. It’s not something that needs to be said.

“Co-leaders, then?” James asks.

Keith smiles softly. “I guess so.”

It doesn’t need to be said at all. At the core, it’s not too different from how he thinks of his squadron. James smiles too. “Honestly, I never thought I’d see the day you were even part of a team.”

Keith chuckles. “Well I think we always knew you’d lead your own.”

They’re waiting for him back home, all warmth and smiles and love, each of them powerful and admirable in their own ways. Maybe it wouldn’t be too bad to just go straight back to them instead of trying to find Commander Holt. “Best team I could ask for…” There’s so much he wants to do for them, so much that he, admittedly, can’t. Things that Keith and his team  _can_ do. They’re a few notches above him and his squadron anyway, and it would be stupid not to trust the literal defenders of the universe. “Hey, um… Look, I know we never saw eye to eye but… If you guys call the shots, my team and I will follow. We’ve got your backs.” 

Keith’s eyes widen. His eyebrows rise.

How shitty have they thought the other was over the years? “What, was that weird to say?” he asks, trying to shrug off the self-consciousness.

“No, it’s…” Keith smiles, still surprised but pleasantly so, it seems. For whatever reason, it’s relieving. “It’s just that it’s like we’re almost getting along for once.”

Ina would’ve been right, like always. “People change, I guess.”

It’d be a fine note to leave on, but he doesn’t want to. He wants something else to say. He could ask about Keith’s team, ask about the good experiences they’ve had in space, maybe even reminisce—not they have any positive history. But it feels wrong to try to chat with him. It’s too friendly, and therefore too awkward. And it’s not like Keith makes any attempt at conversation. He just scans the wall and walks the length of it slowly.

Maybe there is someone Keith is looking for, for himself. And James should find Commander Holt anyway. “Sorry, I should probably leave you alone if you wanted to pay your respects,” he says, turning on his heel.

But Keith shrugs. “It’s fine.”

Is it an invitation to stay?

He almost accepts it as one, but they’d just keep standing around with nothing worth saying to each other. Besides, it’s… strange to want to talk to him. Not in a bad way, but not in a good way either. “I was looking for Commander Holt before you found me anyway.”

“Oh. Alright.”

Keith doesn’t sound disappointed or anything. Did James want him to?

“You know your way back?” James asks, as if he’s stalling.

“I can figure it out.” Keith looks over his shoulder and smiles. “Thanks.”

James doesn’t know what he searches for in that brief look, but he doesn’t find it. He nods and leaves.

Commander Holt isn’t at his office. He isn’t at Commander Iverson’s office either. The higher-ups that he runs into don’t know where he is, so he decides, without needing much convincing, to head back home. That all can be dealt with tomorrow, and resting with his squadron is too tempting. Selfish, sure, and something they’ll get in trouble for, but for once, he doesn’t care.

They’re not asleep like he expects them to be. Nadia and Ina are lying down on either side of Ryan, heads on his shoulders and hands laced together over his stomach. They’re all whispering to each other in the orange lamp light when he walks in. He wishes he had just come home with them in the first place, lied down with them, and shut his eyes with their arms around him. “I thought you were gonna sleep,” he says, already pulling his boots off.

“Nadia kept saying she missed you,” Ina says.

“Well!” Nadia starts, like she’s embarrassed. He smiles and crawls in with them, nestling himself between Ryan’s legs. “It’s, weird when one of us is missing.”

His chest swells at the statement and the shy way she avoids looking at him. He smiles widely enough that his cheeks hurt.

Nadia and Ina fold their hands over his back as he rests his cheek on Ryan’s chest. The cotton of Ryan’s undershirt is soft against his face, but he’d prefer the warmth of his bare skin. He could ask Ryan to pull it off, or maybe James could help him out of it, but that would be too much energy spent not relaxing where they are.

“Holt said we’re clear to take the day off?” Ryan asks.

They’ll be leaving tonight. This could be the last time the four of them get to cuddle like this, and he’s not supposed to be thinking about it, but… “Didn’t even find him, so.”

Nadia can probably tell what’s on his mind, because she cups his cheek and kisses his forehead. It soothes him enough. “I love you,” she says.

“I love you too.” He blindly reaches for Ina’s hand and looks up at Ryan, who smiles at him softly. “I love all of you so much…”

Ina squeezes his hand and gets as close to him as she can.

Ryan manages to plant a kiss on his head. “We love you too.”

James shuts his eyes and holds them tight, however he can—holds onto them and holds onto this moment. Their presence, their breathing, Ryan’s heart beating under his ear… It all lulls him to sleep with ease.

They sleep the whole morning away, awoken by piano chords in time for lunch, where he finally finds Commander Holt. The afternoon falls into more of a routine after that: getting together a schedule for the rest of the day and something for tomorrow, narrowly avoiding getting chewed out for sleeping away the morning (but there’s some sympathy and pity in Commander Holt’s glare, and though James feels awful but not sorry on account of selfishly getting some peaceful, possibly-final moments with his squadron, he’ll take it), running through tactics, doing maintenance checks. Their time for their mission brief catches up to them quickly.

Veronica leads the brief, and her presence is the only one here that’s comforting. Ryan is a stark reminder of what he has to lose, and the Paladins are just unfamiliar. He doesn’t know how any of them moves or fights or thinks—not that they would have had time to build any sort of rapport with each other, even if he and his squadron hadn’t fucked off this morning. But it’s stuff he should be able to adapt to easily while on the mission; his job is to bring up the rear and watch their backs—Keith, Katie, Princess Allura. And the wolf. Apparently.

The photo is the last thing he puts on his person when he gears up. Nadia peers over his shoulder as he pulls it out of his coat, hands at his upper back. Her fingers are just over his sides, like it’s all she can do to keep from outright holding him. “Is that really the only copy we have of that picture?” she asks.

“Yeah, ‘cause we’re dumb,” Ryan answers.

He’d laugh if it weren’t kind of sad. Ryan only got it printed at James’ request around the time they took the photo, because fawning over a digital copy just wasn’t enough. “We’ll get one for each of us,” James says as he slips it into his pocket. “After everything.”

“Or,” Veronica says from her locker in the other aisle, “I could just print them for you when we get back?”

He can see in his head how she’s rolling her eyes at him. A stupidly simple solution, and a favor she wouldn’t mind doing for them.

“I mean, it’s not gonna be glossy,” she says, “and paper and ink are a bit of a luxury, but if you really want a copy now…”

Nadia leans against him. “Veronica, have I told you how much I love you?”

“Yeah, I know, you guys don’t deserve me,” she sighs.

He smiles. “Thanks.”

“Whatever would you do without me.” Her locker clangs as she tosses something in and grabs one last thing. “Alright, I’m set,” she says, making her way toward them and the exit. “Are you guys coming or…?”

Or do they have goodbyes to say. Maybe he’s just projecting, but he swears Nadia tightens her fingers. “We’ll catch up,” he says.

“Alright.” Veronica leaves, and with her goes any feeling of calm he might’ve had.

He pulls his helmet from his locker and frowns at it. How many missions have they run, and he still can’t be truly confident or unafraid?

“You guys are getting back a little late, then,” Nadia mutters in his ear.

“Yeah,” he says, facing her. They have to.

She smiles at him sadly. She wants to pull him in and hold him tightly; he can see it on her face. It makes him feel like he’s failed her somehow. She should be reassuring them with a bright smile, saying it’s an easy mission, they have the Paladins of Voltron with them, they’ll come back and all they really have to worry about is not waking her and Ina when they get home. “We’re gonna try to stay by Command,” she says with a glance toward Ina and Ryan. “Hopefully keep tabs on everything.”

“You should get dinner,” Ryan says. The best they could eat before now was a few snacks, anyway.

Ina grips her elbows. “I would rather stay by Command.”

Ryan squeezes her arm.

They need a hug. His squadron needs a big, tight, reassuring hug, but if he gives them that right now, something in him would crack. And now isn’t the time to lose his composure. He takes a sharp breath and straightens himself, all in preparation for the moment when he slips into the state of mind he needs on the field. “We’ll see you later. Okay?”

Ina nods.

Nadia smiles a little more widely, but not any less sadly. She clutches his sleeve and kisses him. “Keep each other safe.”

“Always.”

Ina kisses Ryan, and then him, with her hands still tight on her arms. “We’ll be fine,” he whispers to her. They have to be.

“I know,” she says, frowning a little at his chest. He knows she does. She’s probably run the numbers. But, worry, empathy, all that good stuff. She sighs, and while her grip stays tight, it looks like some of the tension leaves her shoulders. “I know.”

Nadia puts a hand on her back. That seems to help more, thankfully.

He gives Ryan his kiss, but this one, at least, feels less like a goodbye and more like a promise to guard each other.

They part just outside the locker room. Nadia and Ina see them off, refusing to head to Command before he and Ryan turn and leave. It nags at him whenever any of them does that, when he’s not the one who sees them go. As if he’s supposed to watch their backs and they’re not supposed to worry about his.

He feels a little alone when he climbs into his cruiser. Ryan and Veronica go together, leaving him with Keith, Katie, Princess Allura, the wolf, and a cruiser that still doesn’t respond when he asks it to bring them home. If they were flying, he’d at least feel like he has his fighter with him.

But he feels less alone once they’re out there. Cornered behind some debris with only Princess Allura in his vicinity somehow makes him feel more like he’s part of a team. It’s Ryan and Lance covering them from the building, Veronica keeping eyes on them, Keith and Katie moving through the base as quickly as possible. Adrenaline pumps through his body as he and Princess Allura take out some sentries, but he feels secure. He feels like they’re all coming home today. And they do. They come back tenser and more high strung, but they come back.

“What did you say was in there again?” James asks Katie as they pull out of the ruins, more or less a straight shot back to the glaring orange dome.

“A Zaiforge cannon,” she answers, with an intensity that he doesn’t understand but is wary of nonetheless. “The Galra use them to destroy planets.”

Adrenaline is all that keeps his blood from running cold.

The severity of her statement doesn’t hit him until he’s changing back into his uniform, and it’s a glance at Ryan that does it. Still a stark reminder of everything he has to lose. James takes a deep breath and tries to focus more on buttoning up his coat than anything else.

Ryan gets the last button for him. He brushes James’ hair back, cups his cheeks, and searches for something in his face, eyes dark and deep with concern.

James’ heart slows.

“What?” James whispers. A breath of a word that stops him from pulling Ryan down and kissing him.

“I got worried about you…” When the drones and sentries spotted him and Princess Allura.

He frowns and puts his hands on Ryan’s waist, just above his belt. “Sorry…”

Ryan brushes his thumb over his cheek. “Not your fault.”

Maybe not, but—

He sighs. They’re going to worry. They’re  _all_ going to worry, about each other, and he really needs to accept that again. 

Ryan lifts James’ chin and kisses him slowly, teeth grazing his lip, tongue running over it. James sucks in a sharp breath through his nose and pulls him close.

“Don’t forget I’m still here!” Veronica calls.

James smiles a little. They both hum, “Mm-hmm,” and make no effort to pull themselves apart.

He can  _feel_ her rolling her eyes. “We have a debrief, don’t show up with boners,” she says as she walks out. 

It’s not a discouraging set of words. If anything, it makes him wrap his arms around Ryan’s waist, makes James suck on his lip and slip his tongue into his mouth. But Ryan moans softly, and they both must have the same thought. They mutually pull apart, slowly, with smaller kisses to ease out of it.

“She has a point,” Ryan breathes.

Unfortunately. James gives him a quick kiss anyway. “I guess.”

Ryan gives him another. “Our girls are waiting for us too.”

“Yeah…” James doesn’t want to keep them waiting, even if he can’t greet them or be welcomed back the way they all want.

Ryan doesn’t let him leave without another firm kiss. And a few smaller kisses. And one more for good measure. Then they go.

Ina smiles at them when they walk in.

Nadia beams. Her hair is done up in braids now, the swirling, mesmerizing product of Ina’s worry and nervous energy. “Welcome back,” Nadia says quietly, knowingly, as he and Ryan stand beside them.

He just smiles back.

In a few minutes, everyone who needs to be present is present, and with the knowledge they gained from this mission, they come up with the beginnings of a plan for what will be their final one. He can feel it. Their last stand. They either win and free the Earth and everyone they love, or they die trying. It’s relieving and terrifying, and it brings him an unexpected sense of peace. No matter the outcome, after tomorrow lies rest.

They leave the debrief knowing the basics. He, his squadron, and Veronica will bring each of the Paladins out to a Galra base, where the Lions will rendezvous with them. After that, he and his squadron will head to the sixth base in Antarctica. Once the cannons are destroyed, they’ll play support as the Paladins take down Sendak and his forces with Voltron. The universe’s strongest weapon is finally in their arsenal, the thoughts of freedom and safety no longer a dream.

It’s surreal, to think that two and a half years behind the particle barrier could end tomorrow. But he believes it.

It makes it easier to go to bed that night. They kiss like it’s the last time they’ll be alone together, but it’s bittersweet at worst. He sleeps on the edge of the bed tonight, where he always wants to be, with his arm around Ryan’s waist and his hand on Nadia’s arm. He hooks his leg over Ryan and stretches it toward Ina. “Ina, I can’t reach you,” he whispers.

Ina turns closer toward the rest of them and hooks her leg over Nadia’s, and now he can reach her. He shifts just enough that he can comfortably rest his foot over Ina’s.

Ina sighs. “I love all of you.”

He smiles. Ryan is warm against him. His neck smells like soap, and it’s close enough he can kiss it softly.

He hears Nadia kiss someone, and leans up to see her holding Ina’s hand to her lips. “I love all of you too,” Nadia says.

Ryan squeezes his hand and squeezes Nadia’s and Ina’s. “I love you…”

His heart thuds. He’d give his life for them. By duty, he has to give his life to the planet first, but the three of them are his whole world. They’re his home. More than anything else, he needs them to come back to him at the end. He needs them.

Right now, the only way he can say it is with a quiet, desperate, “I love you all so much…”

They hold each other tightly.

They don’t say goodnight before falling asleep.

When he opens his eyes, he’s in the memorial hall. Veronica is there. So is Commander Holt. And Commander Walter, and Commander Bates, Commander Newell, and Commander Wolfe. They look at him with unsettled faces. Their eyes never quite meet his. The room is grayer than it should be.

There’s no orange. Even the Garrison insignia is missing from their uniforms.

“What happened to the Garrison?” he asks, but he knows that’s not the question he should be asking. He doesn’t want to ask the correct one.

Commander Holt frowns at the wall.

“James,” Veronica says.

Her tone answers the question he didn’t ask. His heart drops through his stomach.

He bolts. He reaches the hangar in seconds, climbs into his jet, and takes off for the ruins before Veronica’s voice guides him to where he needs to be. “I know where they are,” she says, “but, James—”

“Just tell me! How much time do I have?”

She answers, but he doesn’t hear it.

They’re surrounded by Galra fighters when he reaches them. He doesn’t even get the chance to open a channel before they’re shot down.

It feels like his chest collapses.

He can’t decide what’s going on. Half of him is fully certain that they’re fine. The other half is fully certain that they’re… not. But all of him needs to find out for sure. He needs the smoke to clear, needs to see their faces, needs the orange of the particle barrier over their heads.

Their fighters are safely on the ground. Their cockpits open up and they climb out. And they’re fine. They’re fine. They’re fine.

A Galra cruiser fires an ion cannon at them.

He wakes up covered in sweat. His heart pounds in his ears, he has to force himself to breathe. He’s facing away from the others, but they’re there. And they’re alive. He  _knows_ that. 

He turns around anyway. He puts his hand under Ryan’s nose, and waits, and only trusts that Ryan’s okay when he feels him breathe. He reaches over him for Nadia and waits for her to breathe too. But Ina’s too far away. He’d have to get up to check on her. He doesn’t  _have_ to check on her. He really doesn’t. He knows she’s perfectly fine and alive and that it was just a horrid nightmare. 

He pulls the sheets off himself quietly. He rolls off the mattress, tiptoes around, and puts a hand under her nose. It’s only when she breathes that he feels a weight lift itself from his chest.

He stands and wipes the sweat from his face. He’s not going back to sleep. Not after that. He picks up Ryan’s phone off the table to check the time. It’s almost four, the only time of night when it isn’t worth going back to sleep but it isn’t worth staying up either.

He sighs. The dim orange light isn’t helping, somehow. Like it’s telling him to go back to bed when there are only nightmares there. His only recourse is the bathroom.

The light there burns. But it wakes him, and he’s more determined now to stay up for the next two hours. He wants to dunk his face in a bucket of cold water, but he has to settle for the next best thing. He lies down on the floor, cold tile pressed against his back like a comforting stranger. He stares at the ceiling. There’s a crack in the paint. He can’t tell if it’s gotten larger or not since the last time he noticed it.

He argues with himself in his head. They’re going to die, they’re not going to die, the dream was prophetic, it’s just a fucking nightmare. It’s like plucking flower petals.  _They live, they live not_. 

He goes on like that for maybe five minutes before he’s had enough. He gets up, brushes the cold off his back, and figures he’s better off spending his wait on the couch with some music and whatever mobile game will hold his interest long enough.

He snatches his phone up easily enough, but all their wireless earbuds are mixed up. Even if they weren’t, Nadia would probably swap his out just to fuck with him. He grabs a pair hoping for the best. He sits on the couch, drapes the throw over his shoulders, and powers the earbuds. One of them immediately pairs with his phone. The other apparently isn’t his.

He huffs. Of course. Yes, it’s just an earbud, and it really wouldn’t be that much work to find his other one or even just pair this one to his phone, but it’s the principle of the matter. It’s the fact that he’s up at four in the fucking morning because of a nightmare about the people most important to him dying at the hands of the monsters they’ll be fighting in a handful of hours and all he wanted, if he couldn’t get some fucking sleep, was to sit and listen to some music and distract his thoughts and—

Ina’s looking at him.

They stare at each other. She blinks at his chest sleepily.

Fuck. “Did I wake you up?” he whispers.

She squints. “Maybe.”

“Sorry…”

She shakes her head. “Did you have a nightmare?”

He shouldn’t, but he goes back to his phone and half-lies anyway, “No, I can’t sleep.” He’ll just pair the earbud to his phone, whoever’s it is. “Just go back to sleep, Ina,” he says softly. “I’m sorry I woke you.”

“Are you lying?”

“Just go back to sleep,” he pleads.

She’s not going to. For a moment, she doesn’t move, but he knows she’s not going to go back to sleep where she can’t worry about him. He wishes he didn’t feel relieved when she gets up and joins him on the couch.

She wraps her arms around his waist and rests her chin on his shoulder, forehead pressed to the side of his face. Against her, he can relax a little. Enough to decide that it’s better to be with her than to deal with his earbud situation. “Do you want to talk about it?” she asks.

“No… It’s always the same thing anyway, just… You guys dying and me not being able to do anything about it.”

She squeezes him. “I think that is less likely than all of us coming out of this alive.”

“Significantly less likely?”

“Now that we have Voltron, yes.”

It’s consoling enough. His heart doesn’t want to believe her, doesn’t want to hope, but his mind knows she’s right. He can relax a little more. He turns in her hold, letting the throw slide off his shoulders, and wraps his arms around her back and kisses her cheek. She’s warm. “Thanks…”

“You’re welcome.”

He wants to stay with her like this, but she should sleep, and he doesn’t want to be the reason she’s exhausted tomorrow of all days. He presses his fingers against her and asks anyway, “Is there anything you want to talk about?”

She’s quiet, long enough that it worries him. But he waits for her to get her thoughts and words in order, kneading the muscles in her sides to calm them both. “I feel like I know we will be okay,” she whispers, “but I still feel afraid.”

He presses his cheek against hers as comfortingly as he can. “That’s how I feel…”

She holds him tighter.

He should say something more. Something reassuring. Something that lifts her up and makes her glow with a smile. But everything he says will sound like a lie. His voice won’t carry anything confidently right now, especially not when he’s collapsed against her because of a nightmare. He sighs, buries his face in her neck, and presses a kiss to her skin. “I’m sorry that I don’t know what to say…”

She leans her cheek against him and brushes his hair back, fingers moving like she wants to braid it. “You don’t have to say anything,” she whispers. “This helps.”

He shuts his eyes. Her warmth, her breathing, her hand in his hair, even the smell of soap on her skin is soothing. He swears she smells a little like Nadia, too. Maybe he smells a little like Ryan. It’d be like they’re all together that way, even if they’re apart. It’s calming. Lulling. He wants to sleep, and she should sleep, but he doesn’t want to move. “You sure you don’t want to go to bed?” he murmurs.

“I want to stay here with you…”

“Okay…”

He lets her pull him down onto the couch. He puts his phone and the earbuds on the floor, adjusts the throw over them both, and rests his head in the center of her chest. She crosses her legs over his and runs her fingers through his hair, tugging slightly, already twisting strands into lazy, nervous braids.

“Ina, if you need something…”

“Just this,” she whispers.

He settles his ear over her heart. He wants to actually help, to do something, to feel like he’s taking care of them. But if this is all she needs and wants right now… He rubs his thumb over her arm. “Okay. Wake me if you need anything. Alright? Please.”

“Okay.” Her chest rises and falls with a deep breath. The sound and the motion of it, the way her heart quickens and slows—it’s soothing. “Sweet dreams.”

“Sweet dreams…”

He doesn’t expect to fall asleep, but he does. It feels like only minutes pass before piano notes ring throughout their quarters. His eyes itch, his head feels fuzzy, but at least Ina is a comforting presence beneath him. He groans and presses his face into her chest. She places a hand on his head, and the slight weight of it feels so soft and warm that it calls him back to sleep immediately.

“You guys okay?” Ryan asks, voice deep and groggy with sleep.

The spell breaks. Right. Today’s the day they liberate Earth or die trying.

“James had a nightmare,” Ina says.

It was dumb of him to hope, but he didn’t want Ryan and Nadia to know that and worry about him. As if waking up to find he slept on the couch wasn’t enough reason for them to worry, but still.

“Do you need to talk?” Nadia asks quietly.

He sighs into Ina’s chest. “No…”

Nadia comes over anyway. She kisses the back of his head and caresses his shoulder. She should join them. Just lie down on top of him and kiss him wherever she can, and Ryan would have to squeeze in too. He wants to be with all of them, for as long as he can be. Why didn’t he go back to bed so he could have that?

Nadia kisses Ina and asks her, “Are you okay?”

“I think so.”

Nadia puts a hand on his back again. “When we come home tonight, we won’t have to worry about all this anymore.”

He hopes they really do come home tonight.

Nadia leaves their side with a kiss for them each. Ina’s the one who coaxes him up, sitting slowly, trailing fingers over the braids in his hair and over whatever bare skin she can find. His face, his neck, his arms, his shoulders, his upper back under his shirt. He kisses her chest, as thanks and as a plea for her to let him stay and to keep touching him like this. But they’re both sitting up by the time she’s kissing and cradling his head, and he has no excuse to stay on the couch when she tears herself away from him.

“We will be fine,” she tells him. It’s a little easier to believe now.

They kiss each other longer this morning. More deeply. Bodies pressed close, fingers clutching fabric and running through hair, humming past each other’s lips. The four of them hold each other around the waist before they leave, foreheads pressed together. For a long time, they don’t say anything. They don’t have to.

Nadia is the one who breaks the silence, with a gentle voice that powerfully declares, “We’re gonna save the world today, guys.”

“Yeah?” Ryan says, humoring her.

“Yeah.”

James can believe it.

They need to pull themselves apart again, with kisses and  _I love you_ ’s and peaceful, confident looks. 

He believes it.

Nadia opens the door and grins over her shoulder at them. “Let’s go kick some alien ass.”

His stomach isn’t in the mood for breakfast, but he forces himself to eat. He’ll need his strength later, and while he might be able to snack on something on the initial flight to drop off a Paladin, he can’t rely on the possibility that he’ll have that moment. He tries to eat quickly, before his lack of an appetite gets the better of him.

Nadia’s chatty enough that the morning feels a little normal, even if he can tell there’s some energy missing from her voice. If he pays more attention, he can feel the tension in the mess hall too. He can’t make out any distinct conversations or words, but the din sounds equal parts excited and anxious.

Ryan taps James’ foot.

James didn’t realize he stopped eating. He sighs. “I’m not the only one without an appetite today, right?” He shovels a spoonful of bland food into his mouth anyway and chews slowly.

Ryan shrugs.

“I’m trying to ignore it,” Nadia says.

“I still like the food,” Ina says quietly.

James shakes his head and says around his food, “Too nervous to eat.”

Nadia crosses her ankles behind his and smiles. “Don’t be. We’re saving the world, remember? Tonight we get to sleep without a particle barrier over our heads.”

As long as the three of them are in his arms tonight, that’s all that really matters.

The energy of the mess hall follows them into the debriefing room, but it’s magnified as they all go over every detail to ensure this plan goes off without a hitch, from the base defenses they can expect down to who transports which Paladin. He can feel Nadia looking at him when they decide Keith will go with him this time, but he doesn’t mind.

She brings it up afterward, when they’re suiting up, as expected. “I thought you’d be annoyed about getting stuck with him.”

He runs his thumb over the corner and creases of his photo, and tucks it inside his suit. The suit holds it snug against his chest, right over his heart, as he slips his arm in. “We came to an agreement, I guess.”

Ryan raises an eyebrow at him.

“What?” Nadia laughs. “When’d that happen?”

“Yesterday. Ran into him while I was looking for Commander Holt. We talked.”

“Huh.”

“Wait,” Veronica says. “James and Keith have a checkered history?” He doesn’t like the way she says it. Not knowingly, but ready to tease all the same.

“Not like that,” Nadia answers. But then, in the same tone as Veronica, “At least not as far as I know.”

He sneers as he straightens up his locker. Back then? “God, no. We just…” Didn’t get along. Pushed all the wrong buttons. Hated each other for no real reason, now that he thinks about it. They were just young, and total opposites, and Keith grated on him in a way one else ever did.

“Personality clash,” Ryan offers.

“Yeah.” That.

“Huh,” Veronica says, an echo of Nadia. “Well, you’re not exactly the easiest person to get along with, James.”

He rolls his eyes. At least he knows that.

Nadia laughs. She and Ina round the aisle to where he and Ryan are. Nadia gives him a grin. “You know, I think it’s fitting that the last conversation we have before the big mission is just making fun of James.”

Ina frowns.

He’ll take Ina’s expression as his way out. He approaches them but turns his shoulder to Nadia to wrap his arms around Ina’s waist. “You’re upsetting Ina,” he tells Nadia, only a little serious.

Ina hugs him back, surprisingly. He expected her to say something about how they’re not supposed to be affectionate with each other before leaving on a mission, aside from their goodbye kisses. “Not really,” she says. “I would just prefer a nicer topic of conversation right now. I know it is funny to you and humor is helpful considering the circumstances, but…”

Nadia winces and ducks her head. “Sorry…”

“You don’t have to apologize,” Ina says.

He needs to hug Nadia. He needs to hug all of them, hell, even Veronica, who peeks around the aisle looking worried. He pulls Nadia in, gestures for Ryan, and waves Veronica over, saying “Come on, you too.”

She raises her eyebrows, and then smiles and joins them. “Alright, but no one better kiss me.”

He laughs softly.

It’s good, hugging them all, wishing for their safety. It’s warm. It isn’t a peaceful moment, considering how close they are to the end, but it’s calming. A moment to tuck alongside his photo and come back to when he needs it.

Ryan immediately kisses Ina when they pull apart, and Veronica stands back and rolls her eyes affectionately as the four of them trade kisses. They’re goodbyes and promises to protect each other and good luck charms. Maybe Nadia has the same thought he does, because she throws her arms around Veronica for another hug as soon as they’re done kissing.

“What?” Veronica says as they all hug her again.

“To keep you safe!” Nadia answers.

“I— You don’t—” Veronica sighs, and it sounds a little shaky. “You guys are such saps,” she mutters as she hugs them tightly. “Keep each other safe.”

“Always,” James says.

It’s a struggle to move after that, with no other reason to keep them in the locker room. They only separate because of Veronica. She even leads them out, to the pantry so they can each grab a snack and then to the ops desk for their brief, where they meet up with the Paladins. The pilot at the desk informs them there aren’t any last minute changes, and apparently it’s going to be nice out today. Temperate weather patterns. Blue skies. The perfect conditions for the end of the world.

They pair off with their respective Paladins and split on the tarmac, Veronica and Lance to their cruiser and the rest of them to their fighters. He and Keith walk to his fighter in silence, helmets in hand. It’s only when James is done inspecting his fighter that Keith asks, “You and your squadron are the only ones that can fly these?”

History tells him that the question is a challenge. But he looks at Keith before saying anything. He watches the way Keith walks along the length of his fighter, scanning it with interest, and James figures he really needs to let go of their past. Keith looks like he’s genuinely curious at worst. “Other pilots run sims based on the MFEs so, technically, no. But no one flies them better than we do. And even then, we’re best with our own jets. They don’t fly the same.”

Keith just nods.

James crosses his arms. He wants to lean back against something, but his fighter’s too tall for that. “Uh, is it the same with Lions?” he asks, just wanting to keep some sort of conversation going. “You said the Red one was finicky, right?”

Keith gives him a smile that seems almost bashful. “Yeah. It took a lot of getting used to when we switched our lions. Didn’t think the MFEs would be so different from each other.”

James shrugs. They’re not sentient like the Lions apparently are, but they’re not just hunks of metal either. He doesn’t know how to explain it. “They’re kind of like their pilots, I guess? You can tell if you watch closely enough. Though I did fly Nadia’s once and, yeah. A lot like her.” Quicker and more agile, somehow. More responsive. More dynamic. It’s probably just the way she has her controls configured, but it feels like there’s more to it than that.

“That makes sense. Black kind of… feels like Shiro, in a way,” Keith says softly, with a far away look James doesn’t know how to place.

“Do the other Lions feel like their pilots? Or, fly like them, I guess.”

Keith furrows his brow. “Yeah… I guess I never really thought about it before, though.”

Orange flickers at the edge of his vision. They’re pulling the particle barrier down, orange giving away to brilliant blue, not a cruiser or a fighter in the sky. It’s… eerie. It’s unusually nostalgic and calm, just seeing the sky while on the base. Has it really been more than two years since he last saw the sky from here?

He looks across the tarmac. He spots Veronica’s cruiser in the distance, then his squadron’s jets closer to his. He can’t see Ryan from here. Ina looks like she’s still in the middle of her walk around. Nadia’s chatting with Katie by her fighter.

They’re okay.

He squeezes his eyes, takes a breath, and looks back to Keith. Now’s not the time to worry about them. “Not as close to them as you are with Commander Shirogane?” It’s rather forward, but he needs to say something. Get his mind off the state of things, even by a little.

“I owe Shiro a lot,” Keith says, with just enough of an edge to his voice that it sounds defensive. Keith looks away, toward the other jets and the rest of their teams.

Did he touch a nerve? “Sorry, I wasn’t trying to imply anything.”

Keith glances at him, and his shoulders relax. James didn’t realize he was tense to begin with. “To be fair, the rest of us got lost in space together. Hell of a bonding experience.”

James raises an eyebrow. “That sounds shitty.”

But he chuckles. “Not fun.” Keith glances at him again, and James gets the sense that he’s trying to gauge him for what he’s about to ask. “Are you really close with your team?”

He has to direct his smile out to the runway before he laughs. He spots Nadia calling out to Ina and Ryan. “Yeah, you could say that.” Then she waves James over. He walks toward her, only saying over his shoulder, “Hold on,” before leaving Keith.

The crew is already setting up ladders for them to climb into their jets. Whatever this is, Nadia will have to make it quick, though he doesn’t like how apologetic she looks about it.

Before he gets to ask, she claps her hands in front of her face like she’s praying for one last favor from them. “So, I know we already had our goodbye kisses, but, um.” She looks between them shyly, and if they weren’t on the runway in their flight suits, he’d tug her in for a kiss without another word. “Could we have another? I mean it’s the big final fight, I just. Mm.” She shrugs.

Ryan kisses her without hesitation, sweetly and simply, smiling in a way that melts his heart. Ina kisses her next, and James becomes very aware of the people around them. The crew, the Paladins. Well, if Keith had any doubt about how close he is with his squadron… James tries not to pay them any mind and kisses Nadia when his turn comes, but he casts a glance around afterward. The crew, at least, seems occupied.

Nadia rolls her eyes playfully. “Oh come on, what’s a little PDA right now…”

“I still kissed you.” But to prove his point, whatever point it is that he’s trying to make, he pulls them all into a hug and kisses Ina and Ryan. It isn’t until they’ve kissed each other too that James squeezes them all and says, “I love you.”

“I love you too,” they say together.

Ryan gives them each one last kiss on their cheeks before they pull apart, and even then James can’t let go of Ina and Nadia without squeezing their hands again. James looks them each in the eye, grateful that Ina holds his gaze, and says, “Fly safe.”

Nadia smiles and gives him a two-fingered salute. “Roger that.”

He takes a few steps backwards and waits for them to turn and head back to their fighters before doing the same himself. He walks back smiling at the tarmac, feeling like his heart is hovering in his chest. He kicks the front tire of his fighter without thinking and climbs in, murmuring his thanks to the crew member who holds the ladder steady for him. He grabs his helmet off his seat and straps himself in.

This is it. But, he feels okay with that.

“Best team you could ask for, huh?” Keith asks behind him.

His ears burn. He breaks into a wide smile. “Yeah.” He bites his lip as he goes through his controls and radio, making sure again that everything is set as it should be, and puts a hand on the wheel. “Bring us home,” he whispers. He feels it in his heart, a thrum like calm and certainty brushing over him. He takes a breath, puts on his helmet, and lowers the cockpit.

He thinks while they wait for the mark to depart. He thinks he can trust them. He kind of has to, at this point, but he feels like he actually can. Not just the Paladins, but everyone. Everything. The universe, in a way.

But once Commander Shirogane is in their ears and the air marshals start waving them forward, that zen leaves him. The comforting hum of his fighter in his heart becomes a nervous buzz that he has to steel himself against, and once they’re off, radio silence offers him little distraction.

He thinks about a lot of things. His family. His squadron. The bases they’re going to attack. The alien army they’re up against. How little they have on their own side of the field. This plan heavily relies on the nine of them. Nine people, nine half-alien or fully alien ships against six fortified bases. But they should be fine in the air, and he’ll at least have eyes on his squadron once they get to their target.

Like an idiot, he thinks about the things he wishes he told them on the runway. They’re things he’s told them before or things he’s always been certain they already knew, but what if they needed a reminder? What if they forgot, somehow, that they’re his home? Why didn’t he tell Ryan how soothing his presence is, or Nadia about the life she brings him, or Ina about the way she balances him? Why didn’t he tell them that his heart stops when they smile? How the orange glow of night paints their faces like angels and makes him want to kiss them forever? That the one thing he wants is to be with them, to love them and hold them and keep them safe and happy, for the rest of his life?

His heart beats too hard. He grits his teeth, and stops thinking about them.

He tries to focus on the mission instead. The big picture. The flight to the center of Africa is an absurdly quick two hours. Two hours, one hundred twenty minutes, before a giant metal lion is supposed to appear from the sky to pick up Keith and take him the rest of the way to the base.

He doesn’t know how he stays calm for so long. He tunes the feeling out, he guesses. Focuses on his heartbeat, the silence in his ears, their surroundings zipping past them, coastlines and ruins and miles and miles of ocean. He keeps an eye on the status of his fighter. Speed, fuel, air pressure, weapons, all steady or unchanging, as if watching the screens now will make up for later, when he’s too busy dodging blasts and causing explosions to keep track of the numbers.

He’s not far from the base when Lance shouts, “We’ve been spotted!”

It jolts him out of the trance he’s put himself in. His heart pounds. But Veronica’s quick. She knows her way around a cruiser almost as well as Nadia does, and she’ll be fine. She’ll make it out just fine. He has to focus on flying, keeping his eyes peeled for any unexpected fighters, not worrying about Veronica’s safety or that of his team.

His scanners pick up the Black Lion shortly after, and it’s more than a welcome distraction.

It’s four times the size of his jet, and looks both the same as and nothing like the holograms Commander Holt showed them.

He doesn’t say anything as he opens the hatch for Keith to leave. Heart in his throat. Veronica and Lance’s struggle in their ears. He looks back at Keith, and they give each other a nod that says all they need to say.

James keeps his path until Keith is off on his Lion, and Nadia’s voice rings through. “Now let’s see how this faunatonium works.” Her eagerness is infectious, and it’s the encouragement he needs.

His fighter punches through the air with the fuel boost, the speed is exhilarating, numbing, nerve-wracking—maybe that’s the silence he registers over the comms.

Then Lance shouts, “Veronica, look out!”

They scream.

Their audio cuts out.

It feels like one of his nightmares. Like two years ago, sentries and gunfire and explosions, tumbling concrete, Veronica being a damn hero, and the four of them just escaping on a train with the knowledge of her first name and her ferocity.

He wants to call for her, like shouting her name will pull her to safety and bring her voice back. So caught up in his squadron, so certain Veronica would be fine in her short time on the frontlines, that he didn’t consider what he should’ve told her before they departed. But he can’t think about that now. He has to focus on breathing. He has to focus on the mission. He can’t think about how he can’t lose her again, about how much he owes her, how much she’s done for him, all the times she’s been there for him and his squadron, how she’s treated them all this time—

He bites his tongue hard.

For a moment, everything stops. The world is quiet in his ears, and tinted orange through his helmet.

The Paladins call for Lance. He doesn’t respond.

His chest hurts. He hasn’t been breathing. He forces himself to. He brings his attention to his scanners, picking up his squadron as they approach Base Six. But the weight doesn’t ease until Lance finally checks in. Veronica’s voice doesn’t come through, but Lance doesn’t sound heartbroken. If anything, he sounds relieved and determined, so she must be okay. She has to be. If nothing else, it’s what he’ll tell himself. It’ll have to be enough to tide him over for now.

The rest of the mission is a blur.

His squadron is with him, and that’s the only thing he’s fully aware of at all times as they mount their attack on Base Six. He knows where they each are in relation to him, whether they’re in his sights or not.

He hears the shouts of the Paladins, hears his squadron’s struggles in his ears, grunts as he narrowly avoids a beam of energy and shoots down a Galra fighter. Something’s wrong, but he knows where his squadron is. Ina on his left, Nadia on his right, Ryan behind and above him. “Keith, what do we do?” James shouts.

“Do what you have to! We can’t let those cannons launch!”

They fail.

He follows Keith’s order to return to the Garrison with a sick mix of horror and relief in his gut. They failed, but his squadron is alive.

He knows they are, but the first thing he does, once they’re out of their jets and in the hangar, is ask them, “Everyone alright?”

Nadia smiles at him. Ina is calm. Ryan looks as steady as ever.

He wants so badly to hold them tight.

“You?” Ryan asks him.

He nods.

Veronica’s voice comes over the comms, as if on cue, and it loosens the knot in his chest. They didn’t lose her again. Maybe they won’t lose her or anyone at all. The hope makes it easier to wait for their fighters to recharge.

Then they hear about the Paladins getting caught.

It’s chaos as people clamber onto the Atlas—their families included, hopefully—and it doesn’t help. His heart hammers in his chest. He wants nothing more than to be home again, in his squadron’s arms, Ryan’s heart beating a steady rhythm that keeps him calm. But if he asked for that now, for even so much as a hug, he’d break.

Ina knows it. He can see it on her face. But she knows as well as he does that they have to ride it out.

The three of them are a steady presence at his side when he informs Commander Shirogane that the MFEs are almost fully charged. But he feels the ripple among them when the commander tells them they’re shutting down the particle barrier. That they’ll be Earth’s last line of defense.

He shuts his eyes. Breathes.

They might not come out of this alive.

“You can count on us,” he says. He’s not sure how much he believes it.

“No shield?” Nadia says, and bless her for looking puzzled instead of terrified.

He doesn’t like the look on Ryan’s face or Ina’s. He wants to hold them both, for their sake and not so much his own, but he knows. They all know.

“It is our largest source of energy,” Ina says. Her voice is even and her tone is matter of fact, but her expression betrays her. It sends a chill down his spine. “Losing it will put the Garrison at a substantial calculated risk.”

They need to come out of this alive.

His heart lurches before they even launch. The barrier falls out of the sky, row by row, dissipating like a sunset in reverse.

A cruiser fires.

Something explodes.

They’re off.

He doesn’t want to be here. More accurately, he doesn’t want his squadron to be here. But this is what they’ve trained for. This is why they were here to begin with. The four of them are up against an army that has them laughably outclassed, but if they die, they’ll die proud.

It breaks his heart to keep them out there.

They swerve among countless fighters, taking out not even half as many, and his heart’s pounding in his ears but Nadia is there, cheering like this is a game. He’s glad for it. It keeps him steady. Even Ina bringing up the weather when he asks for an evaluation helps a little. It brings a bizarre sense of normalcy to an incredibly stressful situation, one brief moment of reprieve before the extra cruisers come in. Ina gives him a timeframe of twelve minutes, confident in her answer and—though he might be projecting—sounding only a touch worried about the four of them.

It’s only two minutes before that changes, with Commander Shirogane’s announcement that the Atlas is ready for launch. It’s a rush of relief that James can’t savor, not in the midst of this chaos, not with a larger cruiser descending from the clouds. But the Atlas rises from her hangar, and he feels hopeful.

And when the Lions arrive again, he feels like they actually have a shot.

The four of them pull into the Atlas to recharge, and he gets out of his fighter asking for adjustments, anticipating—maybe even looking forward to—the next launch. 

They stand beside each other as they wait to be sent back out. There’s space between them. Too much space, and they each want to close the distance badly. But the most they allow themselves is soft, furtive smiles and warm looks that make him believe they’ll all be alive at the end of the day.

They glide back to Earth with ease, covering each other and taking out stragglers. It’s as straightforward as Ina makes it sound—reach the base and destroy it before it destroys them. They dive into their mission with vigor, Nadia especially once they reach the Australian base.

With each base they reach and take down, he feels more and more confident in them all—in his squadron, in the Paladins, in the Garrison. Once he and Ina take out the last of the bases and Veronica informs them that all they have left is Sendak’s ship, a laugh bubbles up in his throat. He flies back to the Atlas with a grim smile on his face and his squadron behind him, and he dares to believe they can do this.

They pull into the Atlas’ hangar just as Sendak’s ship goes down. He’s ready to leap from his fighter as soon as it comes to a stop, ready to run to the rest of his squadron and hold them tight, breathe them in, feel their warmth against him and confirm they’re all safe and they’re all alive and he didn’t lose a single one of them.

But the fighters are plugged in immediately, and something tells him to stay at the ready.

Keith’s voice comes through. “Paladins, brace for impact.”

He catches Ryan’s eye through their windshields. James keeps his hands on his controls, watching his fighter’s fuel level rise. “Not over yet,” he says, to his squadron and to himself.

Just one more fight, he hopes. Just one more.

He grits his teeth when Commander Shirogane sends them out again, but once they’re in the air, his head clears. His squadron is behind him on his right, Ina, Nadia, Ryan bringing up the rear. Ahead of them, a robot like a humanoid Galra ship looms over Voltron. Voltron’s pinned down by the swords in its shoulders, head thrown helplessly back, looking up at the enemy’s face.

Voltron is supposed to be the strongest weapon in the universe. Where is that supposed leave his squadron?

He buries the thought. “We’re coming in,” he says, more evenly than he expects. “Covering fire.”

He and his squadron flit around it like flies. They don’t even leave a scratch.

But Voltron summons an arm cannon and blasts the thing under the chin, and he and his squadron take their chance. They fly in, painstakingly dodging every beam and shot that comes their way, and then—

“Pilots, fall back,” Keith says.

Captain Shirogane agrees and tells them to return to the Atlas, and James hates the relief he feels.

They sit in their fighters in the hangar, until they hear the announcement that the battle is over.

The news is hard to swallow. Like he can’t let himself believe it. His body stays tense, wound, hands still on his controls, until he sees Ina standing outside his fighter. That’s when he lets himself breathe. He doesn’t remove his helmet until he’s on the ground again. The Atlas tilts beneath his feet as the rescue operation for the Paladins begins.

Ina gives him a small smile that seems tired, amused, grateful, and worried all at once. “Can I estimate that it will be a few days before you feel okay again?”

He drops his helmet and holds her. Her own helmet clatters to the floor as she hugs him back. “As long as you guys are alright,” he whispers.

“Hey, no fair!” Nadia shouts. Her weight slams into them, and he immediately wraps an arm around her. “Don’t start any group hugs without me.”

Ryan comes up to them and holds them all, warm, tight, softening everything like he always does just with his presence.

With the three of them around, the panic and the stress finally catch up to him. In the openness of the hangar, he’s glad to have his face buried in Ina’s neck, where no one but the three of them will know he’s crying.

He catches snippets of conversation, crew members passing on orders for the rescue mission, other pilots getting ready to fly out in. He wants to help. He does. But his body is anchored to his squadron, and the tension only starts to leave when Ryan presses a kiss to his head. “We’re okay,” Ryan whispers.

James sniffs and nods against Ina’s shoulder, wiping the tears from his eyes as best as he can.

Nadia runs a hand through his hair. “Told you.” She sounds choked up too. “You never believe me.”

He bumps his forehead against hers, smiling widely. “Shut up, Nadia.”

She laughs and brushes her thumb under his eye. Her eyes are shining. “Now stop crying,” she says.

“Like you’re not crying too…”

Ryan presses his forehead to his. “Not as much as you are.”

He sighs and leans against Ina. Nadia and Ryan lean in with him, staying close, keeping their arms tight around them all. “Ina’s the only one who won’t make fun of me,” he jokes.

“I think they do enough of that anyway,” Ina mutters.

James squeezes them tight. And breathes. And finally, finally relaxes.

He wants nothing more than to collapse into bed with them and sleep for weeks, but there are things that need to get done right now.

But tonight. Tonight, they get to rest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You don't know how difficult it was to get James and Keith to talk, oh my god these boys are so difficult.
> 
> Also I love Veronica.
> 
> Kudos, comments, reblogs, retweets, and the like are always greatly appreciated <3
> 
> [tumblr](https://write-nonsense-by-the-ream.tumblr.com/post/181053722933/but-once-commander-shirogane-is-in-their-ears-and) || [twitter](https://twitter.com/thirteenthhr/status/1072932833436540929)


	3. Chapter 3

He hardly remembers how they spend that afternoon. Lots of running around. Lots of orders to follow. They don’t eat anything for lunch but the few snacks they had stored in their jets. He’s pretty sure there wouldn’t be anyone around to serve lunch anyway, not with the chaos of unloading the Atlas, assessing damages to the base, accounting for the dead and the missing, and of course, retrieving the Paladins. He and his squadron are assigned tasks that keep them at the Garrison, all of them running nearly on empty. The best they get is a moment to hug each other every now and then, literally leaning on each other for a few seconds before getting back to work.

The sun is setting by the time they get to check on their families, grabbing meager bites to eat with the mess halls sort of up and running again. They don’t spot Veronica or her family there. They haven’t seen her since they parted that morning. But it’s easy enough to guess where she is.

They make their way to the infirmary hand in hand, never mind the few officers who give them looks for it. Such officers bite back their reprimands at least, considering that they do, in part, owe their lives to the four of them.

And they, in turn, owe their lives to the Paladins.

The infirmary seems miraculously untouched by the battle. The only real indication of the day is the number of people in the lobby, clearly injured or otherwise. He doesn’t see Veronica among them.

“Do you think they’d let us see if she’s in there?” Nadia asks.

He doubts it, considering they’re not family, but—

“We just helped save the world,” Ryan grumbles, completing his thought.

The nurse at the front desk confirms as much, when they finally reach her. Policy and things being hectic and it’s clear that she knows who they are and what they’ve done, but they have no rank to pull with her. She reminds them as much with a glance at their shoulders.

Nadia tries. The woman definitely doesn’t appreciate her persistence, but it pays off. They’re at the front desk long enough that Veronica appears asking another nurse for something. Nadia calls out to her. And unlike them, Veronica does get to pull rank.

Nadia smiles sweetly at the nurse as they walk past the front desk. He tugs her along so the nurse has a little less reason to give them a death glare.

“You didn’t have to come looking for me,” Veronica says as she leads them to Lance’s room.

Nadia rolls her eyes. “We couldn’t  _not_ check up on you, come on.”

“Well… Thanks. That’s sweet.”

He’s walking behind Veronica, but he knows she’s smiling that vulnerable smile of hers. He almost reaches for her, like he needs to touch her to convince himself she’s okay. But he can’t bring himself to let go of Ina or Nadia. Something inside him will burst if he does. Instead, he asks her, “Are you okay? I—” He swallows. “I got… worried when your audio cut out.”

“I think we all did,” Nadia says quietly.

Ryan and Ina nod.

Veronica slows. She looks at them over her shoulder, eyes a little wide and apologetic. That smile comes back, though it looks bashful this time. “I’m okay. Got some bruises and a mild concussion, but I’m okay.”

He nods. He wants to say something. Something about how he wouldn’t know what to do if she wasn’t. How he was afraid they’d hold another funeral for her. How she keeps him steady in a way his squadron can’t, when it’s so much easier to fall apart around them. But the words die in his throat.

Nadia lets go of him, grabs Veronica’s wrist, and pulls her around for a hug. “I was scared you died again,” she mumbles into Veronica’s shoulder.

Veronica is slow to hug her back, eyes jumping from James to Ina to Ryan and back like she might cry. She ducks her head as the three of them join the hug and mutters, “Sorry.”

Nadia chuckles. “You don’t have to apologize…”

Veronica tucks her head into the space between Nadia’s neck and James’ shoulder. She tries not to—because she’s Veronica—but she shakes a little in their hold. He wishes she would just let go. It’s been a long day. “Family’s okay?” he whispers. “Lance?”

She sniffs. “Yeah,” she says, a tremor in her voice. “You guys?”

Ryan presses his cheek into her hair, and the tension finally leaves her back. “Everyone’s good,” he says.

She sniffs again. “Good…”

She ducks her head when they let go of her, trying her best to hide the fact that she needs to wipe her eyes. She’d brush him off if he said something, but Ina squeezes her hand and says, “It’s okay. You always have our support.”

Veronica nods. “I know. Thanks…” She smiles shyly and starts down the hall again. “Um, my mom was asking about you guys, if you still wanna stop by.”

The first thing they hear when Veronica opens the door to Lance’s room is her niece Little Nadia asking loudly, “Did you get the blanket?”

Her mother shushes the girl, quietly enough that her reprimand sounds like a wordless hiss. But Little Nadia is enough like his Nadia—and whether that’s by confidence or influence, he’ll never know—that he’s sure she doesn’t really care.

“No, I couldn’t,” Veronica tells her. “They don’t have enough spares to go around.”

“I told you she could just share with me,” Lance says.

Veronica shrugs. “Yeah, but—”

“Yay!”

Veronica sighs and steps aside to let the four of them in. “I did find these guys, though.”

Little Nadia is selling herself beside Lance, clearly being careful not to take too much of the blanket from her uncle. But at the sight of Nadia, she drops the sheets to throw her arms up and shout, “Twin!” Her mother shushes her again, Lance gives her a confused look, and his Nadia smiles and waves at her.

The rest of Veronica’s family waves at them from their spots around the room—her other siblings, her nephew, and her father. The exception is her mother, who greets them each with a hug and a kiss off the cheek. “Ah, are you okay? Veronica was telling me—”

“We’re fine,” James says softly as she hugs him.

“I was worried about you,” she says. Ryan is the last to get a hug from her. She holds him at arm’s length afterward, looks them each up and down, and then looks back at her family. She shakes her head. “I swear, when things finally get back to normal, I am cooking a massive dinner, we all need actual food in us, none of this foiled-up nonsense,” she says, knowing the four of them get about a full day’s worth of food anyway. She pats Ryan’s shoulders and grins. “And if they don’t reward you with new uniforms, you’ll at least have my empanadas.”

It stings a little. The food. The uniforms.

“Ooh, I’ve never had an empanada,” Nadia says, eyes twinkling at the idea of a home-cooked meal.

“Oh, mija,” Veronica’s mother says softly, voice tinged with a touch of pity and the need to mother.

“Ma makes the best ones,” Veronica says.

“Thank you, thank you.”

Little Nadia grumbles from her place beside Lance, who’s got a face screwed up in confusion for reasons James can only guess at. Veronica definitely told Lance enough about the four of them that it would make sense that they showed up here. It must be something else that has him pulling that face.

Little Nadia pouts.

“I’m sorry!” Nadia says. She rushes to the bed and crouches to meet Little Nadia at eye level, flashing the girl a bright smile. “How’s my twin today?”

“I’m good.” She smiles and tugs on her braids, any and all transgressions clearly forgiven. “Uncle Lance braided my hair!”

“Oh!” Nadia gives Lance a quick smile, and James swears it slaps Lance across the heart. Slack jaw, wider eyes—definitely stricken. Maybe it’s a little weird to feel proud that she’s just that pretty, but he is. “Well, I love how it looks,” Nadia says.

Little Nadia basks in the praise, turning her head this way and that with a smile that isn’t exactly humble. “Thank you. Oh, you should braid your hair too so we match like real twins!”

“Well, Ina’s really good at braiding my hair.”

“She should braid it for you, I bet it would look really pretty.”

Nadia smiles at Ina, softly enough that his own heart skips a beat. “I’ll have to ask her, then.”

Beside him, Ina ducks her head and smiles shyly, and he’d kiss her cheek if they weren’t surrounded by so many people. He squeezes her hand instead.

“Right, Lance?” Little Nadia says. “Don’t you think she’d look really pretty with braids?”

Ina’s adorable. And she’d look even cuter with braids, maybe one weaved across her hair like a headband, the way she’s done for Nadia a few times.

“Wh— Uh, y-yeah, um,” Lance stammers. Absolutely slapped across the heart. He looks everywhere but at Nadia, gaze finally settling on his niece when he asks, “Uh, twins?”

Little Nadia beams. “She has the same name as me!”

“Oh.”

Nadia tilts her head and pouts cutely, pursing her lips in thought. “Oh, yeah, I guess we were never properly introduced.”

Lance still can’t look at her. Is Nadia doing it on purpose? It’s not like it’s something she wouldn’t do. “Oh, no, I— Uh, Veronica… told me a little about you guys.” He shrugs at his sister and accidentally makes eye contact with James before rushing to the safety of a wall.

Veronica snickers.

James can’t help but smile a little.

There’s a pause between them, filled by the quiet Spanish chatter among the rest of Lance’s family, before Veronica’s mother starts chatting the four of them up. She asks about their families, what their day has been like after “this morning,” how busy a day they have ahead of them tomorrow, and lets them know that they’re always welcome to stop by. James and Nadia are the ones who really engage with her, though she tries to pull Ina and especially Ryan into the conversation. Veronica gives them an apologetic look.

At some point, Ina slides her nail across his palm to let him know she’s uncomfortable, all the people and talking beginning to feel overwhelming. He squeezes her hand and waits for a lull in the conversation to say, “Well, we should probably get going.”

“Oh, no, mijo, you can all stay,” Veronica’s mother says with a wave, dismissing words that she’s interpreting as them not wanting to be a burden.

It’s motherly for sure, and sweet. “Thank you,” he says with a small smile, “but we actually still have some things to tend to. We just wanted to make sure you were all okay.” Veronica especially, who gives him a look that’s both appreciative and teasing. She may as well call him a sap out loud.

“Ah, okay.” Veronica’s mother doesn’t hesitate to start hugging them goodbye. “You are always welcome here.”

They thank her and the rest of her family. Nadia gets the tightest hug from Little Nadia, who says, “Tell Ina to braid your hair next time!” as a goodbye.

Nadia grins and gently tugs on one of her braids. “Fingers crossed I don’t forget. We gotta keep the twin thing going.”

“If you forget, maybe Lance can braid it!”

Lance startles. James grins, and Nadia laughs, though he can’t tell if she’s laughing about Lance or if she’s humoring Little Nadia. “Maybe!” Nadia says. She turns to Lance and tells him, “Oh, um. Thanks for everything you’ve done. With your team and all. You guys really pulled through for us.”

Lance only manages to hold her gaze for a moment. “Oh, uh. Yeah. No sweat,” he says to his bedside table, chin raised like it really helps matters. “Defenders of the universe and all, psh.”

Veronica grins. She wants to say something so badly, James can see it on her face. But all she chooses to say is, “Here, I’ll see you guys out.”

At the very least, once the five of them are out in the hall and she closes the door behind them, she says, “I’m sorry in advance if Lance hits on you.”

Nadia laughs. Maybe she did do it on purpose.

“Where are you off to now?” Veronica asks.

“Sleep,” Ryan answers.

There isn’t any other place James would rather be, anyway. Tucked in bed, wrapped up in their arms, drifting… He nods.

“Alright,” she says, hugging them each goodbye. “Thanks for checking up on us. I’m glad you’re all okay.”

“Of course,” Nadia says.

James squeezes Veronica tight. Her hair is pillowy against his cheek like always. “Sweet dreams.”

“You too.”

Nadia takes his hand as soon as Veronica steps back inside. She tugs him down the hall, leading them to the lobby. “We should get them thank you cards or something,” she says. “For the Paladins. Maybe flowers if we can get any, like a little ’get well soon, also thanks for saving our asses’ kinda deal.”

“That’d be nice,” he mutters. He owes them his world. A proper thank you is the last he could give them.

They’ll think about it another day, though, when they aren’t so exhausted and they’re not running around carrying out endless orders. Tomorrow’s going to be busy, and the day after that and the day after that. A good kind of busy. Days spent in open air, under blue skies whether they’re out in ruins or here at the Garrison. They need to reestablish proper communications with the outside world, get in touch with Voltron’s allies, find people here on Earth who need help, get ahold of medicine and Galra technology that they might be able to use— Too much.

He collapses onto the couch when they finally get home, and he might just sleep there, in his uniform, slumped over with the worst kind of posture, but it’s comfortable enough.

“I’m taking the bathroom,” Nadia sighs, and the door slides shut behind her. She sounded about as exhausted as he feels. What if she falls asleep in there? He would.

Ina sits down next to him, practically on top of him with her head on his shoulder and her legs thrown over his. He has to shift a little so they can both be comfortable. He tucks his arm under her and around her back, and she does the same. Her other hand rests over his heart, fingers clutching the seam where orange meets white.

He kisses her head. Maybe she’ll want to sleep here again too. They wouldn’t have to move. They could just stay like this, drift off, wake up together again…

Ryan kisses his forehead, and his eyes snap open. He sucks in a breath. Did he fall asleep already?

Ryan settles in on his other side, an arm around his back like Ina, his other hand turning his head onto his shoulder. Ryan kisses him again, caresses Ina’s cheek, and whispers, “I love you.”

Ina whispers back, “I love you too.”

He just groans.

Ryan laughs softly and brushes his hair back.

Next thing he knows, Nadia is here and pressing kisses to their foreheads and maybe he fell asleep again.

Ryan kisses his lips, too quickly for him to really register the touch and kiss him back. “James, why don’t you go.” Go? “Then you can just go to bed.” Oh. The bathroom.

He takes a breath, groans, tries to get up, but, right, Ina’s on top of him, so he slumps back into the couch and grunts. Ina just makes herself more comfortable.

Ryan kisses his cheek and Ina’s and gets up, and if James had the energy to, he’d reach out and pull him back down onto the couch with them. He wraps his other arm around Ina instead and rests his cheek on her head. It hurts his neck a little to be curled up like that, but it’s comfy in its own way. He’s close to her.

“You’re so cute,” Nadia whispers. She kisses Ina’s cheek and brushes his hair back to kiss his forehead, and he wants her to sit next to him where Ryan was, to keep him warm and kiss him back to sleep. But she goes to bed instead, and he only protests with a quiet grunt.

The sleep finally fades when Ryan comes back out and Ina gets up, leaving him alone on the couch with a kiss on his chin and the phantom memory of her weight against him. It’s not as comfortable here without any of them, and Ryan is too busy curling himself around Nadia to keep him company.

He wants all of them to be curled up around him, to settle themselves in his arms where he can hold them all tightly and kiss them and tell them that he loves them and believe that they’re safe and alive and here and… And it’s all real again. The war, or maybe just the battle, that they’ve finally won. They’re free (for now.) Safe (for now.) Alive (for now.) His heart does something weird as Nadia tucks herself into Ryan’s chest, as his mind taunts him with the knowledge that it isn’t truly over.

For his own sanity, he tries to think optimistically. With Voltron on their side, the odds are much more in their favor. Not just Voltron, either. There’s a whole Coalition out there in the stars, hundreds of thousands of allies that make them more serious contenders in this war. They were weaker before and they still lived. They’ll be even better from here on out.

It’s not an argument that puts him fully at ease, but it’s strong enough for him to hold on to it.

“Bathroom’s yours,” Ina says when she comes out. She gives him a small, tired smile and turns toward the bed, but he gets up and takes her hand. He pulls her in. He holds her close and kisses her.

It’s slow at first. Gentle parting and meeting of lips. But she puts her hands on the sides of his neck, and he holds her tightly around her waist. Kisses her a little harder. Meets her tongue with his. She buries her hands in his hair and sighs into his mouth, and Nadia says slyly, “I thought they were tired.”

Ryan mumbles, “You three are so damn horny a full day of sex wouldn’t calm you guys down.”

Nadia laughs.

It all ruins the kiss, but James smiles anyway. He rubs his thumbs into Ina’s waist. “I just wanted to kiss you…”

She kisses him and presses her forehead against his. “I just like kissing you.”

His smile widens.

He’s much more awake by the time he comes out of the bathroom, cleaned up with cold water, but his body aches. He’s more sore than he’s felt in a long while. It’s the strain of finally flying the MFEs again, he guesses, but it’s everything else too. He knows they have more battles ahead of them, but those should be a long while off. And while they have an unending list of things to do, they’re less threatening things. They can finally rest for a significant amount of time, and his body knows it.

He sets the room aglow in soft, orange lamplight and finally climbs into bed with them. He hooks a leg over Ina and wraps an arm over her, resting his hand on Ryan’s arm. Nadia’s at the other end of the bed tonight, too far for him to reach her, but she locks eyes with him and smiles tiredly.

He buries his nose in the nape of Ina’s neck.

Breathes.

Lets himself relax.

He wants to say something. Everything. Everything he feels, he wants to voice it. But he can’t find the words.

Nadia sighs, “We’re all here,” and that’s all he needs. They already know exactly how he feels.

He reaches for Nadia anyway, leaning over Ina and Ryan, and hugs them all as tightly as he can. “I love you all so much,” he sighs. “You… You’re everything to me… And I can’t— I can’t tell you what it means to have you all here safe and sound…” His voice shakes.

Nadia squeezes his arm. She looks like she’s going to cry.

Ina caresses his cheek. “I think… we all know.” She presses her forehead to his cheek and whispers, “You don’t have to say it.”

“We all feel the same,” Ryan says.

His eyes sting. He nods.

Nadia sniffs. “You need to stop before I start crying again.”

He laughs. He lies back down and wipes his eyes. “Yeah.”

Ryan squeezes his leg.

He nestles himself against Ina’s back again, and her breathing calms him. He focuses on the way his arm moves with her inhales and exhales. He listens for Ryan’s and Nadia’s breathing. He can relax a little more every time Ryan caresses his leg. And when he’s calm enough that sleep begins to settle over him, he can feel Ina’s quiet pulse lulling him.

For the first time in a long time, he rests.

* * *

The next day is a long one. They spend hours running around the Garrison with Commander Holt, Commander Iverson, Commander Shirogane, and even Veronica in their ears, sending them all over the base to help with whatever they can. Tomorrow, they’ll likely be off-base, retrieving whatever supplies are available now that they don’t have drones and sentries to worry about. Teams will head out to Base One and to the remains of Galra cruisers to see if there’s any intel about the Galra Empire that they can make use of.

It sticks with him today, the certainty of there being more out there, more that they have to deal with. But they have so much more on their own side of the field now. He can’t forget that.

Things slow down after a meager lunch, and when their duties are about wrapped up for the day, Nadia reminds them that they need to give their thanks. “We don’t even have to give them the flowers ourselves,” she says, walking backwards down the hall. “They’re probably not gonna let us into the infirmary anyway. We can give Katie’s flowers to Holt, and hopefully Veronica can bring the rest to everyone else.”

It’s a little less awkward that way. But it also makes their thanks more impersonal, which feels wrong considering what the Paladins have done for them, and for him. But he doesn’t have an alternative to offer. And if anyone else is thinking the same, they don’t speak up.

There’s an indoor garden managed by lieutenants and a few refugees. Insufficient as it is, it has been the Garrison’s main food source for the last few years. A small portion of the garden is dedicated to flowers, so people can honor the departed. It’s been plucked half-clean today in honor of their victory, but there are plenty of flowers for their purposes.

Nadia asks for seven bouquets—six with three white poppies, and one with four poppies—from the lieutenant acting as florist today. “Figured we should get one for Shiro, too,” Nadia says. “And a flower for Sanda, Bates, Newell, and Wolfe.”

It feels strange, somehow, walking to the memorial hall with flowers in his hands. It’s not a funeral procession, but it’s what he thinks of. Do white poppies signify anything, with relation to funerals and soldiers and dying on the battlefield? Are they appropriate? It doesn’t really matter; white poppies are what they have. But he wonders.

They aren’t the only ones in the memorial hall today, and he’s grateful for it. Having other people around makes the room a little less depressing.

There are new names on the wall. He doesn’t want to know how many but his eyes count them anyway. Twenty. Twenty officers died in the past, what, one or two days since the last time he was here, and his chest clenches like he could’ve done anything about it. Maybe he could have. But it’s unlikely.

Ryan puts a hand on his back. He doesn’t need to say it. It’s not their fault. James takes a breath and steps forward.

Nadia and Ina are already at the wall, setting down individual flowers under the nameplates for Admiral Sanda and for Commander Bates, Commander Newell, and Commander Wolfe. Nadia and Ina linger by their three name plates, holding hands.

He feels helpless as he walks up to them, as they turn to him and Ryan with frowns on their faces. He wants to hug them, but his body is too tense. Too guilty.

“Anyone have any words?” Nadia whispers.

He wishes he did, and tries to come up with some anyway. But what is there to say? Nothing and so much at the same time. He hardly knew them, but he wishes they were still alive. Right now, he wishes Sanda had sent him and his squadron out first, even if he knows that could’ve meant that the four of them…

And what about Sanda? What could he say for her, who didn’t respect the four of them but did what she thought was best for the world and died in the thick of it?

“Thank you for your service,” Ryan says, after a long silence. Maybe that’s all they need to say.

The walk back to their quarters feels twice as long as it should, but Nadia does her best to lift their spirits. She talks about how she thinks the Paladins will respond, and Ryan humors her by throwing in how he expects Veronica to respond to their “sappiness.” James manages to smile a little, but his heart stays heavy.

If nothing else, he should at least thank Keith and Commander Shirogane personally.

The thank you cards they put together are just a few squares of paper with a simple line of thanks in Nadia’s looping handwriting, followed by their signatures.  _Thank you for everything you’ve done for us on Earth and across the universe. Get well soon!_ is what they decide on, minus the last line for Commander Shirogane. It’s a little generic, but it’s better than getting too personal.

Nadia writes the recipients’ names on the notes and tucks them into the bouquets they’re holding. “I say we start at Holt’s office.” It’s as good a place to check for the three of them as any.

Unlike the last time he went looking for Commander Holt, they find him easily. He’s in his office, along with Veronica, Commander Shirogane, and Commander Iverson, all of them standing around his desk studying papers and glowing orange tablets. All of them, thankfully, in one place.

They salute the officers, and Nadia asks cheerily, “Permission to make a request, sirs?”

They look baffled. Four technically-cadets just walking in with their arms full of flowers. Maybe it’s a little comedic.

Commander Iverson exchanges a quick glance with Commander Holt and says, “At ease. What is it?”

Nadia steps forward. “We have some ’thank you, get well’ flowers for the Paladins. And since we can’t deliver them ourselves because of visiting rules, we wanted to pass Katie’s to Commander Holt and the rest to Veronica, if that would be okay. Oh, and we have thank you flowers for Commander Shirogane too.”

Commander Shirogane looks shocked. Veronica looks like she’s going to say exactly what Ryan said she was going to say. And Commander Holt looks touched. “Of course,” he says. Nadia checks her bouquets and hands him the one meant for Katie. “Thank you.”

James apparently has Commander Shirogane’s flowers, and Keith’s, and gives the former to their recipient. There’s something intimidating about Commander Shirogane, even though he looks baffled about getting flowers from a bunch of Garrison cadets who barely know him. “Thank you, sir,” James tells him. “We… Things would be a lot different right now if it weren’t for you and your team. So, thank you for all that you’ve done.”

Commander Shirogane smiles at them gratefully. “Thank you… The four of you were instrumental in this last battle.” He looks to Commander Holt and adds, “And over the last few years from what I understand. So thank you for all you’ve done as well.”

“Of course,” James says. “It’s been an honor, sir.” A dreadful one, but still an honor.

Commander Shirogane nods, and gestures at the bouquet James is still holding. “I can bring Keith his flowers,” he says, with a softness that reminds him of the other day, talking to Keith in the memorial hall. It still isn’t something that needs to be said. “One less bouquet for Veronica to carry.”

James hands him Keith’s flowers, but… It feels inappropriate somehow. As if in doing so, he’s also giving up the choice to thank Keith personally and properly, as if he won’t have the opportunity to talk to him once he’s out of the infirmary. “Thank you, sir…”

“I’ll drop these off tonight,” Veronica says. The four bouquets she’s responsible for delivering are on the table in front of her. She smiles at them, genuinely, not like she’s on the verge of teasing. “These are sweet.”

Nadia shrugs bashfully. “We owe them a lot more but… it’s the least we could do.”

Veronica texts them later that night sending the Paladins’ thanks and adds,  _Lance got all blushy when I told him they were Nadia’s idea (they were, weren’t they?) it was great_. 

Nadia laughs. “Aw, he’s cute.”

Veronica doesn’t say anything specific about the others, though. James is, admittedly, tempted to ask her about Keith’s reaction to the flowers, even though she probably doesn’t know. He could ask Commander Shirogane, but that’s somehow embarrassing. He could probably just ask Keith himself, even ask Veronica to get him past the nurse again, but that’s also somehow embarrassing, and it’s too much of a hassle anyway. He could just wait until Keith is out of the infirmary and ask then—though it would be a long enough amount of time that it’d be awkward to ask about the flowers then, but at least James could thank him properly. He can wait.

It’s not something he should be thinking so hard about, really.

The events of the following days make it less of a priority. With communications back up and running, Commander Shirogane and Coran are able to contact their allies in the stars, and the Garrison is soon flooded by alien species James could never have imagined. Robotic and faceless aliens, anthropomorphic animals, burly humanoids that look like they’re made of rock, round ones whose mouths light up when they speak, others that look incredibly human— Commander Shirogane gives names to each species and personally introduces aliens he’s worked with in the past, but none of the names stick. It’s a lot to take in all at once.

The hardest group to accept is the Blade of Marmora, Galra resistance fighters that they’ll just have to trust. James trusts Commander Shirogane, but he watches the Blade carefully regardless.

Commander Shirogane introduces them to two of the Blade’s members, and their names are the only names that stick with him. The first is Kolivan, the leader of the Blade, who stands tall and intimidating. But it isn’t Kolivan himself who’s memorable to James. It’s the woman beside him. Krolia.

She reminds him of Keith.

Already, the Garrison takes on a different life with the arrival of these aliens—of their allies. There’s more food and water and medicine, and there’ll be more to come. There’s a second moon in the morning sky, a Balmera that will serve as the power source for the Atlas and the MFE fighters.

There is, as Commander Shirogane says in his speech, hope. And it must be the speech that does it. The energy in the air. James doesn’t know what else it could be that sends him to the infirmary alone that same evening. No more excuses. They’re all a team now, aren’t they?

The nurse, a different one from before, doesn’t care for the sentimentality of it. And James understands; policies, of course. But this is important.

He at least has impeccable timing, because Commander Shirogane appears beside him at the counter asking, “Is there any way I can help?”

James salutes him immediately.

“Well, this  _cadet_ here,” the nurse spits, as if he isn’t talking to one of the _cadets_ that saved everyone’s ass, but okay, “wants to insist on getting special visiting privileges.” 

There’s a lot James could say in response, but he bites his tongue.

Commander Shirogane gestures for him to stop saluting and asks him, “Who were you hoping to see?”

“I… wanted to talk to Keith, sir.” It’s still somehow embarrassing to admit.

“Oh. Well,” he says to the nurse, “I’d imagine you could allow one of the defenders of Earth talk to his injured teammate.”

“I’m afraid that’s against our policy at the moment, sir.”

“Well, yes, but I’m not related to any of the Paladins either, and I’ve been allowed to visit my team members as much as I want.”

“That-That’s different, sir, you’re—”

“A Commander?”

The nurse looks away. It’s satisfying.

“If it’s a matter of rank, then as your superior officer, I’m going to have to ask you to allow Griffin some visitation rights. I was going to go see Keith right now anyway, so he can come in with me.”

Oh, James can’t wait for the day when he gets to pull rank like that.

The nurse mulls over his options, and signs them in with a sigh.

“Thank you for that, sir,” James tells Commander Shirogane as they walk down the hall toward the Paladins’ rooms. It’s not as comforting as it was walking through here with Veronica and his squadron. The place feels colder. Unwelcoming. Not that an infirmary could be welcoming to begin with, but still.

“Not a problem. I didn’t realize you and Keith were…” He tilts his head and furrows his brow looking for the word, and James wants nothing more than to cut him off and correct him before he says anything else. But that would be disrespectful. “Friends, now?”

“Not… quite. Sir. We just came to an understanding, and I wanted to thank him personally.”

“Oh. Well, you can talk to him first. I’ll be here for a while.”

It still doesn’t need to be said.

Commander Shirogane opens the door to Keith’s room and enters first, whispering Keith’s name.

James stays by the door, but the longer he stands there, the more he feels like he should excuse himself. Commander Shirogane is just standing at Keith’s bedside, but it feels intensely private. “Sir, I can come back later, it’s—”

“It’s fine, Griffin.” James doesn’t know how to feel about the way Commander Shirogane looks at him. It’s far more vulnerable than he ever expected the man to look. “They’ve had him under for a while. Bad head injury…” His prosthetic curls into a fist.

“He’s…” James steps gingerly into the room. It’s orange with the sunset. Quieter than the hall. As if Keith and Commander Shirogane are the only ones here. “He’s been out all this time?” he whispers.

“No, thankfully. He wakes up every now and then.” Commander Shirogane pauses, like there’s something he wants to say or do, but shouldn’t. His prosthetic twitches. “But he’ll be fine…”

James nods hesitantly, even though Commander Shirogane is looking at Keith, nothing but raw concern in his eyes and frown. It’s the same feeling James has whenever one of his squadron gets hurt on a mission.

Commander Shirogane shakes his head, and when he faces James, it’s like looking at a whole other person. He stands tall. His eyes are clear. His voice sounds stronger. “He usually wakes up around now, so if you wanted to stay and wait, it shouldn’t be long.”

James nods.

It’s awkward standing by them—intrusive, still—so he stands by the window. The sky is orange and violet, just because it is. No particle barrier to filter everything out. Parts of the Garrison are nothing but rubble now—must be where those twenty officers died, and maybe there were others too. Much more than twenty civilians. And maybe they haven’t even finished counting all the bodies. Is that their fault, his and his squadron’s and the Paladins’? Could they have saved them?

He takes a breath and digs his nails into his palm. He turns his back to the window and sits on the bench beneath it.

What he has to say to Keith, Commander Shirogane should hear as well. They’re co-leaders, after all. It’s nerve-wracking to say, though. If Keith had been awake, James would’ve had to just come out and say it, but now he gets to think and prepare and steel himself. He gets to watch Commander Shirogane worry over Keith like he’s not even in the room. And if that’s the case, maybe James should allow himself to be vulnerable too.

He takes a breath and stands. “Commander Shirogane? I—”

“You don’t have to call me that, you know,” he says with a shrug. “We’re off-duty, you can just call me Shiro. That’s what everyone calls me all the time anyway.”

Oh. “Okay. Um. Shiro…” Just like Veronica. She’d laugh at him if she were here, relishing his frown and the reluctance in his quiet voice because, yes, it is still inappropriate to call them by their first names, even if that’s their request. It’s not really right, but it is, but— Whatever. Shiro… “I wanted to personally thank Keith, as the leader of Voltron, but you’re their leader too so, you deserve that just as well.” He takes a breath. It shouldn’t be so hard to say. It shouldn’t be so hard to look at him as he says it, but his eyes are drawn to the walls, the door, the floor anyway. “I’ve spent the last two and a half years terrified that I was going to send my squadron to their deaths.” His voice doesn’t sound the way he wants it to. He should be speaking objectively, but he sounds small and vulnerable to his own ears. He has to straighten his posture. “And it’s not— They’re so much more than just my pilots.” It feels too personal to be more specific than that. The way Commander Shirogane looks at him confirms as much. “So I specifically wanted to thank you for essentially protecting them to an extent that I couldn’t. It— Just… thank you.”

Commander Shirogane looks like he doesn’t know what to say.

And James feels too open. Maybe he can nod and take his leave and ask him to pass that on to—

Keith is squinting at him.

Oh. Did he hear all of that?

Can he just go then?

Keith blinks at him slowly. “Am I high or did you just thank Shiro for saving your… the people you’re dating.”

Commander Shirogane’s attention is on Keith the instant he starts talking, and he breathes Keith’s name like a prayer. “Keith. How do you feel?”

“Like hell but that’s not new,” he groans. He makes like he’s going to sit up, but Commander Shirogane moves to stop him, and Keith thinks better of it.

They smile at each other for a second, the kind of smile that makes James want to run into the arms of his squadron.

“Were you?” Keith asks James.

James straightens again. “Yeah. I was going to thank you for the same.”

Keith blinks. “Huh.”

He should leave.

But what does Keith mean by “huh?”

Commander Shirogane puts his hand on Keith’s shoulder and softly asks, “Keith, do you need anything?”

Keith stares at him. Probably just to look at him, considering how long it takes him to mutter, “Painkillers…”

Commander Shirogane smiles. “I’ll… go see if I can find a nurse.” He stops short as he opens the door, and looks back at James. “Oh, um. You’re welcome, Griffin.”

James nods.

Commander Shirogane quietly shuts the door behind him. He didn’t need to pretend he was grabbing a nurse instead of giving them space.

But Keith’s attention isn’t on him for a private conversation. It’s on the door, and he stares at it for half a minute before he says, “I miss him…”

What is James supposed to say to that?

Keith shifts. He doesn’t take his eyes off the door. “Would you give up your life for them?”

For his squadron? Of course. But why is Keith asking him that?

Keith continues, “Or just so you don’t have to live without them? I would for Shiro. I almost did, once.”

James furrows his brow. “Yeah… Why are you telling me this?”

“‘Cause I’ve got too many drugs in me,” he laughs. Keith finally looks at him, lazy but genuine. “But also ‘cause I get it. And it’s… kinda nice to know there’re people we weren’t too late to help.”

James nods. He understands that, even if he never focuses on it. He and his squadron have saved so many more people than those up on the wall—but there are so many others that aren’t up on the wall that should be remembered, and— No, that’s not the point.

Keith smirks sardonically. “What, not enough?”

Of all people, Keith manages to catch him off guard and see the cracks in his barriers. He straightens, and says as plainly as he can, “Survivor’s guilt, I guess.”

It wipes the smirk clean off his face. What did Keith think was going through his mind? “You know…” Keith starts. “I thought you were gonna be a bigger pain in the ass to work with.”

Good to know the feeling was mutual. “So did I.”

Keith smiles. It’s a little smile. Warm. Amused. Relieving, in a small way. Hopeful. “Never did get along with each other,” Keith says, like maybe they actually can now, and not just in the middle of a battle.

James hopes he’s understanding that correctly. “Yeah… So I really appreciate that you were the leader—or, one of the leaders,” he amends with a glance at the door, “the world needed.” The leader he needed Keith to be for his squadron’s sake, but he doesn’t need to say it out loud. “Would’ve lost too much without you.”

Keith looks at him with a question in his eyes. One he doesn’t want to say out loud either.

But James answers it anyway. “I did say I’d give my life for them.”

Keith nods. “So what happens now?”

“With?”

“We’re really a team now?” Keith raises an eyebrow, but it’s not a challenge. “There’re more battles out there. We need all the allies we can get. And the Atlas needs its fighters.”

James smirks. “You’re acting like the four of us didn’t sign up for this.”

“No, I know, I just—” He shrugs. “You and I are on the same team, but I don’t know if…”

Oh. Well, at least he knows he’s not the only one who’s been wondering. “Are we good?” James asks slowly.

Keith looks the way he did in the hallway, asking if he knew where the memorial hall is. Guarded. Nervous. It doesn’t suit him. “Are we?” Keith repeats.

James doesn’t know. Not for real, anyway. Obviously they’re on much better terms than they used to be, and they can work together well enough, but does that make them a team? Are they on  _good_ terms? Or just passable ones? Why does it even matter to James like it makes a difference? He sighs. The walls are easier to look at than Keith. 

James spots their flowers on the nightstand.

“I’d like to be,” James finally says. “I don’t think there’s any real reason not to be, you know? That’s all in the past. I hope.”

Keith looks away. “Yeah…”

“If it actually  _is_ in the past,” he adds, because Keith isn’t being the least bit convincing. “No point in acting like it is if it’s not, I just…” He shrugs. That was all so long ago, and yet. “We pushed each other way more than we needed to. I didn’t have to call you out and challenge you every time you did something that got everyone in trouble.”

Keith shrugs. There’s a glint in his eyes, something mischievous but apologetic all the same. “I mean I wasn’t exactly the best classmate. You did what everyone else didn’t have the guts to do.”

Maybe. But that doesn’t mean it was right to keep confronting him. “I should’ve just left you alone.”

Keith grunts. And then smiles a little. “Pissing you off was kind of entertaining after a while. But you were also the only one who could ever beat my records in the simulators. Kept that from being boring.”

James can ignore the first comment. Though now he’s curious if Keith ever let him win in the simulators just so he could take the record back immediately after. He used to expect such spite from him. “I guess we got a lot better at flying because of each other.”

Keith’s smile widens. It’s almost unfair how he looks, smiling in a sunset-lit hospital bed with bandages wrapped around his head, and how agreeably he says, “Guess so.”

James swallows. “Um… I’m sorry about all that. Really wasn’t any need for that behavior.”

Keith extends his hand. “I’m sorry too.”

James takes it. And it’s good. It’s not exactly a weight off his chest, but it’s a relief all the same to be able to put that behind them.

“I’m sorry about punching you that one time too,” Keith says. “I’ve wondered about that, to be honest. If you knew about my parents or not.”

James freezes. He can’t forget that punch. It’s when everything went even further south between them, when he gave up on any sliver of possibility that Keith could ever be not how he was. He never thought there was an actual reason why Keith punched him, just that he threw his fist because Keith was being Keith. But now James stares at him wide-eyed, asks, “What about your parents?” and hopes he didn’t inadvertently say something horrible.

Keith smiles. He smiles and shakes his head and says, “Nothing, never mind,” and it doesn’t help at all.

“What? What about your parents?”

“It’s nothing.”

He frowns. “Keith.”

“James.”

James stares him down.

Keith doesn’t stop smiling, but he gives in. He rolls his eyes lightly and says, “My mom wasn’t in the picture, and my dad died when I was a kid.”

Oh.

_That’s_ why.  _That’s_ why Keith hit him, and it makes James’ heart sink and his face burn but all he can say is, “Oh…”

“It’s fine,” Keith says casually. “I thought my mom was dead but it turns out she was in space the whole time. She’s pretty badass.” He smiles brightly. “I got to spend two years on a space whale with her. Except it was maybe a few months for everyone else? I dunno, time is weird out there.”

His mom was in space? His parents were dead? And James made a comment about them? “A… space whale?”

“Yeah. Her name’s Krolia. My mom,” he says, still too bright in the setting sun. “She’s with the Blade of Marmora. Maybe you already met her.”

“I… Yeah. She looks like you. Or, you look like her, I guess.” He’s half Galra? He doesn’t look like it at all. Keith’s mother is an alien, and she was out in space his whole life, and James didn’t know about Keith’s parents but—

“What?” Keith asks him.

“I— You just told me I made a comment about your dead parents, I—” He sighs. He doesn’t know that he wouldn’t have said it if he  _did_ know. Did he hate Keith that much? He was a kid, yeah, but still. “Fuck, I’m-I’m sorry, I mean it’s a decade too late but—”

“It’s fine,” Keith laughs. “I… I’ve said some shitty things myself. Sometimes it just comes out even if you don’t mean it.”

Still. “I—” James sighs. “Sorry…”

“It’s fine…” He smiles like he’s going to laugh again, a glint in his eyes. “Damn, I didn’t think you were so apologetic.”

James shrugs. What is he supposed to say to that?

Keith rolls his eyes like before. It’s a strangely friendly gesture, coming from him. “So if you can get over that… We’re good?”

How is it bothering him more than it bothers Keith? “I— Y-yeah.” He nods. “We’re good. Clean slate and all that.”

Keith keeps smiling.

This whole thing has James feeling nervous. He glances at the door.

“Shiro probably just wanted to let us talk.”

Clearly. And they’ve talked about more than James thought they would. “I should go find him then. I think he wanted to talk to you too.” By which he means Commander Shirogane probably wants to just stay here with Keith. “Um… It was good to talk about all that.”

“It was,” Keith says gently.

He leaves the room feeling a little lighter. They can move forward from here with a clean slate, and now he realizes he needed that. Maybe they both did. Their talk at the memorial hall was good, but this was closure. This was better. He can smile about it.

He doesn’t know where Commander Shirogane might be, but the man emerges from one of the other rooms—likely one of the other Paladins’ rooms—as James makes his way down the hall. “Commander Shirogane,” he calls, trying not to be too loud in the infirmary.

Commander Shirogane raises an eyebrow, smiling, and—

“Uh. Shiro,” he corrects. At least he’s not glaring like Veronica used to. “Just, wanted to let you know I’m heading out. If you wanted to see Keith.”

“On better terms now?” 

“Yeah, actually.”

“I’m glad to hear it.”

He nods and starts walking away. “Good night, sir—  _Shiro_.” He’ll get it one day. He did with Veronica. 

He laughs. “Good night, Griffin.”

He doesn’t really get the hang of the name thing. It was easier with Veronica since he only knew her as “Veronica” for a long time, but Commander Shirogane has been “Commander Shirogane” since he was a kid. Sometimes, before or after meetings or even in the mess hall, Commander Shirogane will give a bashful smile when James addresses him with formality, but they’re not exactly off-duty moments, so. James will take what he can get.

It takes months for Earth to find some sort of stability again. Food, water, and medicine aren’t exactly plentiful, but there’s enough to keep people taken care of. They clean ruins to set up markets. More and more Coalition members arrive by the day. They upgrade and repair the Atlas.

And they find the Altean in the robot from their final battle.

It’s a complicated situation. What happens from here on out. Who stays behind and who leaves for the battles in the stars. His mother cries when he tells her. His father doesn’t, but he looks like he wants to. His squadron’s families look at him like they expect him to bring them back safe. And he will. He kept them safe when the odds were much worse. He’ll do it again. They’ll all keep each other safe.

It’s bittersweet when the day comes. Their belongings are already packed up and aboard the Atlas, and somehow it’s harder now, when their quarters are empty, to think this place, that wasn’t theirs to begin with and was only given to them because of war and death, wasn’t their home. After everything, this was a place of peace and rest and love, and he’ll miss it. He already misses seeing the mattresses on the floor.

“Are you okay?” Ina asks, slipping her hand into his and squeezing tight.

She’s in the new uniform. Still orange and white and two gold stripes, but they’re not just cadets anymore. He touches his nose to her cheek and says, “Yeah. Just gonna miss this place.”

“So am I. Admittedly, I am a little worried about adjusting to living on the Atlas…”

He kisses her cheek. “We’re here. We’ll help you make the change as smooth as possible.”

She hugs him tight around his waist, and he squeezes her back. “Thank you.”

“Hopefully it won’t feel too different,” Nadia says, helping Ryan into his coat. Ryan smiles when she kisses his cheek and hands him his copy of their photo. They each have one now, courtesy of Veronica, safely tucked into the inner pockets of their coats. James’ own sits safely beside the original, worn photo. “Like, overwhelmingly different. But if you need anything, Ina, just let us know.”

Ina nods against his shoulder and says softly, “I will… Thank you.”

James kisses her head and shuts his eyes. He focuses on her weight against him, her arms around his waist, the soft sound of fabric as Nadia buttons up Ryan’s coat. Ryan’s smiling softly, a look in his eyes like Nadia doesn’t need to dote on him but he’s grateful all the same. He’s beautiful.

Nadia smiles at Ryan brightly, straightening his collar and cuffs, and wraps the belt around his waist. “Guys, we look good in these uniforms.”

Ryan tugs her closer by her belt. “They’re not that different from our old ones.”

She wraps her arms around Ryan, and if it weren’t for Ina, James would join them. It’s not that Ina wouldn’t want to hug them, but they’re comfortable here. Warm. Maybe Nadia and Ryan would come to them instead. “I don’t care,” Nadia says. “We still look damn good in them.”

James wishes the uniforms weren’t so similar to the cadet ones, but she’s right. They do look damn good in them. Powerful, capable, and safe.

He locks eyes with Ryan, then Nadia, and none of them need to say anything. The two of them come to him and Ina without letting go of each other, and they all wrap their arms around each other. James keeps his hand tight around Ina’s waist and clutches the back of Ryan’s coat, and while he doesn’t have another arm to hold Nadia, she’s still close when they all touch their foreheads together. Her eyes gleam at him, bright, golden, and happy.

They all kiss tenderly. Presses of lips against lips and skin. His fingers trace Ryan’s jaw, Ina’s neck, Nadia’s cheeks. They hold him close and warm and it feels, for a moment, for just long enough that it’s real, like they’ll never leave. Like this room is where they’ll stay, just the four of them, safe from the stars. They breathe  _I love you_ ’s that tickle their faces, like peace and nightfall, and even when he remembers there is more to the world than them, he knows his home is wherever they are. 

Nadia takes a deep breath. He doesn’t want to—none of them do—but it’s time. “Ready?” she whispers.

“Not really,” Ina says.

“Same,” Ryan chuckles, squeezing James’ hand. “But we’re all here.”

James rubs his thumbs into Ryan’s and Ina’s hands. “We’ll be safe… We have each other.”

Nadia gasps dramatically.

James gives Ina a sideways glance, but she’s smiling about it.

Nadia leans in conspiratorially, eyes gleaming. “Is… Is  _James Griffin_ agreeing to let us keep him  _safe_?” 

He huffs, “You really know how to ruin a moment.” But he’s smiling too.

Nadia lifts her chin. “I pride myself on it.”

She’s silly, and he loves it. He loves her cheer, her energy, the way she grins at him right now. He has to push past Ina and Ryan to kiss her forehead, and kisses the two of them in turn. He doesn’t want to move. He doesn’t want to pull himself away from them and leave the home they’ve made here. But they have a job to do and duties to fulfill.

He leans away from them, already feeling cold where their warmth was. “Time?” he asks softly.

Nadia smiles sadly.

Ryan nods.

Ina is the one who breathes, “Time.”

They pause outside their door, casting one last glance at their small, barren quarters.

They knock on the frame three times, and leave.

They walk down the hall in a line, arms hooked together, taking up too much space and bugging the hell out of the lieutenants who have to move around them or wait for them to pass because they can’t say anything now. He never would’ve thought orange could shoulder past gray in these halls, but here they are.

It’s a good feeling.

“What’re you guys most excited about?” Nadia asks on their way to the Atlas. “I honestly just hope the Captain lets up zip around in our fighters out there, I wanna take a joyride through space.”

Ina tightens her arm around his. “I want to see all the different planets and star systems and nebulae we fly past. It is beautiful up there… Even catching a glimpse of the Earth during our battle with Sendak was breathtaking.”

“Not as breathtaking as you,” he and Nadia say. They glance at each other and laugh.

Ina smiles shyly, and she blushes when Ryan tops the whole thing off with a kiss to her cheek. “I—” she stammers, and ducks her head.

James kisses her other cheek twice. “One from Nadia.”

“Okay,” she squeaks.

She’s adorable.

“I’m just excited to be going out into space with you guys,” Ryan says. “But seeing all the different people and cultures we’ve had around with the Coalition and all, it’d be really cool to learn more about what life is like on other planets.”

Nadia gasps. “Are you gonna start recording stuff again? Vlog about all these aliens, and then there’s me in the background doing stupid shit, I miss that so much.”

Ryan holds his chin and squints at the ceiling in thought, just to humor her. “Is it still vlogging if there’s no internet though?”

She rolls her eyes grandly. “Oh my god, you’re turning into James.”

“I’m not that pedantic,” James says.

“You can be,” Ina says. Matter-of-fact as ever and smiling.

He pouts.

Ina squeezes his arm. Nadia plants a kiss on his cheek. It’s hard to keep pouting afterward.

“But yeah, I’ll start taking videos again,” Ryan says. “I mean, we better be allowed to walk around the Atlas with our phones on us ‘cause damn.”

James grins at Nadia. “At least we’ll have time to film more than just Nadia face-down on the couch complaining about being tired.”

She pouts at him, and he pulls them all to a stop just so he can kiss her. Not like any gray-uniformed lieutenant or commander can say anything to him now.

He likes this new uniform.

She purses her lips in a reluctant smile and mutters, “Jerk.”

He grins and kisses her again.

There are some last minute things to do at the hangar—engine checks, upgrade checks, things that Nadia is more equipped to help with than the rest of them, who assist more with supplies. Like the supply depot, his mind offers. But this time, he’s right there beside most of his squadron, and Veronica, clad in orange and white and three gold stripes, won’t be lost to them.

He must look at her like that’s what he’s thinking about, because she stops him as he passes her on the bridge at one point to ask, “You good?”

“Yeah,” he tells her. But he wants to hug her, to know that’s safe and here.

She can tell. She squints at him, looking right through him. Neither of them needs to say anything.

He sighs. It’s a lot easier to watch Coran bumbling around than to look at her as he says, “I’m just… glad you’re here.”

“Now where’s that coming from,” she says gently.

“I think too much.”

She hugs him. Her hair is soft against the side of his face, curly and comforting. “I’m glad you’re here too,” she says. She looks him in the eye and makes sure to keep his gaze. “Let me know if you need anything.”

He smiles at her softly. “You too.”

She squeezes his shoulder, and they get back to work.

It’s another nerve-wracking hour before Captain Shirogane announces over the intercom, “The Atlas is ready for launch!”

By then, they’re all on the bridge. He and his squadron stand by Veronica’s seat staring out the window that overlooks the ship’s hangar.

The startup sequence strikes a nerve, one that apparently had gone soft over the past several months of freedom.

“Activating interlock.”

“Dynotherms connected.”

“Mega thrusters are go.”

Ryan’s hand finds his and squeezes. “Good?” Ryan asks.

“He’s been out of it since he got on this ship,” Veronica says, but her gaze is reassuring.

“We’re about to leave Earth for god knows how long,” James says, quietly, because it’s not anything new to the Paladins. He sees their backs from here, all radiating determination from their postures alone—Keith most of all. “I think I’m allowed to feel a little nervous…”

Veronica smiles gently at him.

“You are,” Ina says, taking his other hand. “And considering that we know how you get when you bottle things up, I think we all prefer when you healthily express such emotions. So, when you need us, we are always here.” She smiles softly, maybe even shyly, at their hands.

It’s soothing. Not just her hold and her smile, but Ryan’s as well, Veronica’s presence though she’s busy with everything on her screens, and Nadia smiling at him from Veronica’s other side. He squeezes Ina’s and Ryan’s hands. “I know… I’m here for all of you too.”

Someone on the bridge calls, “We’re ready to depart Earth on your mark, Captain Shirogane.”

Nadia beams at them confidently. “What do you say, guys? Ready to help defend the universe?”

With them at his side? Always.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It took me like six different tries to get James and Keith to talk here, christ... Stubborn boys. They're good boys, I love them.
> 
> Thank you so so much for reading! I really hope you enjoyed this little fic. I had a lot of fun writing this, I haven't been so consumed by a piece of writing in a long, long time, and it taught/reminded me of a lot about myself as a writer. I have a few WIPs for other fandoms that I want to work on, but I'm kinda hoping season 8 inspires me to write something else with these four, I love them so much...
> 
> Let me know what you thought or drop a kudos/reblog/retweet! I really appreciate the feedback ^^ <3
> 
> [tumblr](https://write-nonsense-by-the-ream.tumblr.com/post/181088231263/nadia-smiles-at-ryan-brightly-straightening-his) || [twitter](https://twitter.com/thirteenthhr/status/1073328895137599488)


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